


Your Wings Prepare to Fly

by ICMezzo



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Background Ted Mullens, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Issues, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Self-Loathing, Oral Sex, Past mention of business women wearing sneakers, Pizza, Teasing, Trust Issues, Wingfic, Wings, background Alexis Rose, background Johnny Rose, background Moira Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICMezzo/pseuds/ICMezzo
Summary: Wings on a human? Incorrect.David Rose had them anyway, at least sometimes. But given that he loathed them all the time, with every luxuriously moisturized cell in his body, he did whatever it took to keep them hidden away. It hadn’t even been particularly difficult—at least, not until Patrick Brewer started looking.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Schitt’s Creek Fandom, we need more fanfiction and fanart of the classic fandom tropes! I’m talking pirates! Pirates in accidental marriages! Pirates in accidental marriages who battle naughty tentacles and werewolves and face an occasional time warp! And then huddle for warmth! This stuff writes itself.
> 
> This fic is my first contribution to the fandom and my small way of helping to address this Extremely Important Issue. I’m hopeful you will find winged!David as compelling as I do.
> 
> Endless thanks to Lettered for the encouragement to write this story, for reassurance when I got stuck, and then for thoughtfully and skillfully betaing this fic in like two days once I finished. (My friend, I’m unbelievably, impossibly glad we got snowed in and binged this show. I’m even more glad to share a fandom with you again.) 
> 
> This fic is complete and will be posted over three days. The title is from Mariah Carey’s “Butterfly.” I, of course, do not own Schitt’s Creek or anything to do with it other than a surprisingly handy Rosebud Motel keychain.
> 
> Enjoy.

“I thought you were bringing back coffee.” Patrick glanced up from his laptop. “And tea,” he added, pointedly looking down at David’s empty hands.

David closed the shop door behind him and sighed dramatically. “I was accosted on the way back from the café. It was extremely unpleasant. I’m lucky to be alive.” Their beverages were now splattered on the sidewalk like some early Chris Hood. _Caffeine on pavement (2019)._

Also, he had a headache.

“Accosted?” Patrick looked at him, out the front window, then back at David. “The café is right across the street—oh, was it a businesswoman in sneakers?”

David narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have you know that it was only one business woman, one time, and she emerged from the steamy depths like a—”

“The subway, David. It was the subway. Lots of people use the subway in New York.”

David took Patrick’s interruption as an opportunity to add his appalled face to the dramatic gestures he was already employing. “From the _depths,”_ he said again. “Like some hideously tacky—"

The bell on the front door jingled as two women—in neither suits nor sneakers, thankfully, but definitely dressed in what he’d come to understand as ‘Schitt’s Creek Casual’—entered and began looking around the store. Patrick just shook his head at David, giving up his position by the register to greet the women and help them find toothpaste. Unwinding his scarf and setting his things in the back room, David paused to listen as Patrick tried to explain charcoal toothpaste, smiling to himself as Patrick managed to discuss mouth detoxification for the first time without stumbling. David was so proud.

That didn’t mean he didn’t still have a headache though. He planted himself on Patrick’s stool behind the counter, regretting that he hadn’t installed some timeless window treatments to help block out the bright sun on days such as these.

When the women left, thoroughly charmed and with a tube toothpaste and a face mask apiece, Patrick nudged David with his hip until David was halfway off the stool, as though they could reasonably share the seat.

“All right,” Patrick said. “Do you want to tell me about your accoster?”

David made a face and reclaimed the entirety of the stool, so Patrick stood behind him instead, leaning in and rubbing his hand comfortingly on David’s upper arm.

David appreciated the gesture, which had its intended effect. Maybe the trip back from the café hadn’t quite been a near-death experience…just a moderately terrifying one. David was distrustful—quite reasonably, he thought—of just about every type of winged creature, from moths and butterflies to turkeys and geese, and the aggressive pigeon that had been standing between the café and the Apothecary that morning was no exception. Every time David had respectfully tried to go around it, it puffed up its feathers and advanced several steps closer, staring at him menacingly with those beady, unblinking eyes. Then it had started following David and his to-go beverages and muffin, hopping along after him no matter how fast David went. It hadn’t ended well.

Eventually he’d dropped the beverages, thrown the muffin at the bird—he’d missed wildly, but it had been enough—and ducked back to the Apothecary where Patrick awaited and where birds were entirely unwelcome. Except for the stylish black statues that he’d repurposed from his tenure at the Blouse Barn, anyway.

“No,” David decided. Pigeon fear was not a good look on him. “Definitely not.”

“You know,” Patrick said after a beat, “if it really was a businesswoman…”

“It was not,” David announced. “No one around here even wears suits besides my dad.”

He could feel the huff of air against the back of his head indicating Patrick had laughed behind him. David turned around to make sure Patrick wasn’t laughing at him, but he wasn’t. At least, not in a mean way. David pouted visibly; this _was_ a good look on him, and Patrick leaned in for a kiss.

“Next time I’ll get the coffee,” Patrick said after.

“That’s probably best,” David agreed, then looked at him expectantly.

Patrick’s forehead creased until he caught up. “Wait. You want me to go right now?”

David gave an exaggerated nod. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Patrick shook his head affectionately. “Fine, but you’re picking up lunch.”

“Hmm,” David said, standing and suddenly very intent on unpacking the new skin caviar that had just come in. “Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it.

*********

 

They’d barely made it into Patrick’s apartment after work before Patrick was kissing David with unexpected fervor.

“What was that for?” David asked, pulling back to look at him.

“You smell good. Why do you smell so good.” Patrick barely looked at him before wrapping his arms around David and burying his face in his neck, inhaling deeply. “It’s been making me crazy all afternoon.”

“Are you saying you didn’t like how I smelled this morning?”

“No,” Patrick said. “It was good; it’s always good. But this afternoon, what did you do. Something is different.”

David decided to be mollified by this and tried not to smile as Patrick continued to run his mouth along the side of David’s neck. “I tried a sample that a potential new vendor sent us. I think it’s safe to say we should order some.”

“Yes,” Patrick said into his shoulder. “Though I may not get much work done.”

David thought back through their afternoon. “I put it on just after lunch. That was hours ago.” He was surprised the scent lasted as long as it had. He must have grown used to it, but clearly Patrick had not.

“I know,” Patrick whined. “I could barely restrain myself.”

“You hid it well.” He hadn’t even noticed Patrick’s reaction.

“There were nonstop customers.”

“We did have a particularly good afternoon,” David admitted. Content, David rubbed the back of Patrick’s neck, eventually guiding his head back up so he could kiss him on the mouth.

Once he’d gotten over his initial caution, Patrick had been one of the most eager partners that David had ever had, and David had relished the chance to share everything with Patrick. He had taken extra care in those first months, treated him as right as David had sometimes been treated wrong, going slowly when Patrick requested, and Patrick had looked at him as though he’d hung the moon. No one had ever looked at David like that before. Remembering Patrick’s face as he explored his body like some piece of tangible art still made his mouth go dry.

It had also made things easier.

Keeping Patrick focused largely on himself meant it wasn’t as hard for David to keep himself in check, and if David felt his control slipping, he could often revert Patrick’s attention away from him since Patrick had been so easily distracted in the early days by all the ways they could be together.

But now Patrick was surer, and he seemed insistent on focusing on David, which was frankly much harder. Outside of the bedroom, he was more than happy to be the center of Patrick’s world—and preferably everyone else’s around him as well. But being someone’s primary concern during sex was another story. Besides, David had long ago learned to give himself over completely during sex, whether or not his partners deserved it. Giving more than he received kept them coming back, at least for a while. But Patrick wasn’t like that. At all. David wasn’t sure Patrick was capable of it. Instead, he continually explored and learned David’s body in a way no one had ever taken the time to know it before. It was really, really fucking amazing.

And it was probably going to kill David. Not really, of course, but holding himself together and trying to keep Patrick from noticing anything was amiss was starting to become as agonizing as it was blissful.

David involuntarily clenched his back as the memory of their last time together rolled under his skin, and a shudder ran down his spine.

“Cold?” Patrick asked, as he stopped kissing David.

“Mmm-mmm,” David said, shaking his head, and taking Patrick’s hand to pull him farther into the apartment. “But I’m thinking shower and dinner? Do you have any of those—” He paused at the look on Patrick’s face. “What?” he demanded.

Abruptly, Patrick pulled him close, and ran his hands beneath David’s shirt and along his back. “Leave it,” he murmured, nuzzling at David’s jaw. “You smell too good.”

“My god. You are a monster.” David emphasized this by poking Patrick in the chest with each word, before dropping his arms over Patrick’s. They hadn’t even made it past the kitchen. He would definitely be ordering more of this neck cream. Apparently, Patrick had a thing for mandarin and cardamom laced with black pepper and moss undertones. His straight-leg denim-clad business school graduate was starting to develop excellent taste. David was clearly a good influence on him.

David walked them over to Patrick’s sofa then, and he took a seat so he could at least be comfortable while Patrick tried to paw at him.

Patrick was on him at once. David loved it.

It wasn’t long before Patrick got even more handsy, running his palms beneath David’s dove shirt—his attempt, as ever, at hiding in plain sight—so he pushed himself up from the sofa and let Patrick watch as he pulled the shirt over his head. He left his undershirt on, but he could feel Patrick’s heated gaze on him as he carefully folded and placed it safely aside.

“Can’t have you ruining Marcelo Burlon’s masterpiece.”

Patrick looked doubtful. “You mean your sweatshirt?”

“I’m sorry, were you still interested in making out?” David waved his hands in a circle toward the spot where Patrick had been mauling him. “Or would you rather we take a few minutes for another lesson on Milanese high fashion first?”

Patrick smiled and looped a finger along the waist of David’s pants, where his undershirt had gotten rucked up. He pulled David close. “Nope. You promised only one per day. Besides, where _you_ not interested in making out?” he asked, low in David’s ear, still breathing a bit heavily. “Because I can stop.”

“That—” David said, “—is entirely beside the point.”

“Yeah?” Patrick teased. “I mean, if you’re not enjoying yourself…”

David felt his smile creeping into his eyes, which meant he was losing all hope of controlling it, despite more than thirty-five years of intensive practice. He slipped his shoes off as an excuse to look away then kissed Patrick so Patrick’s eyelids would close; perhaps he’d not notice that David’s heart was still splashed across his face.

Patrick saw anyway, of course, and smiled to himself as he began unbuttoning his collared work shirt. David watched and gave Patrick a very sexy pout while he waited, delighting in Patrick’s clumsier than usual fingers. Running his hands over Patrick’s newly revealed undershirt, he felt Patrick’s chest through the thin cotton, warm and strong and steady, his muscles firm below David’s palm. David trailed his hand down Patrick’s chest and watched Patrick’s eyes grow heated again.

“So how much of it do you think I should order?” David asked, sitting back down abruptly and adopting a casual tone. “I sampled the neck cream, but the same scent is available in a facial moisturizer, if I remember her catalogue correctly.”

Patrick groaned, shaking his head a little as he joined David on the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist.”

“You have no idea,” Patrick said, adjusting his position so he could lean closer to David again. “I was ready to take you into the back room all afternoon. At one point I seriously considered putting a jar by the register and leaving customers to help themselves under the honor system.”

“The honor system? How naughty,” David teased. “So what did you want to do back there?” he asked, running his hand up over Patrick’s upper thigh.

“I thought we’d start with Parcheesi, and then maybe a round or two of Backgammon.”

“That’s so fucking hot,” David said, because board games. “Now take my clothes off and king me.”

“That’s checkers.”

“Fine. I’ll take ‘Backroom Blowjobs for $1,000, Alex’.” David slid his hand up higher.

“That’s not even a—”

“Okay.” David said impatiently, and he leaned over and kissed Patrick lightly, smiling into the kiss. 

Breaking apart, Patrick shook his head again, though his eyes were crinkled and happy, and then he started taking off his shoes as David settled in.

“You never answered my question,” David said as he watched. He angled his head back to expose his neck, the apparent source of Patrick’s intoxication. “One box? Two?”

“All of them. All of it.” Patrick dropped his second shoe unceremoniously and climbed over David and began impatiently kissing and tasting his neck once more. “Get every last jar in existence. And we’re not sharing.” Patrick ran his lips down David’s shoulder, kissing him through his undershirt. “What have you done to me?”

“I didn’t do anything,” David innocently between kisses. “I think it must have happened when you traded sheep for wood.”

“David.” Patrick ran his hands down David’s sides to his hips and then back to where he could pull David’s shirt up and get his hands on his bare skin. He rubbed his thumb over David’s nipple, pinched it lightly, then soothed it again; it sent sparks of pleasure zinging through his body.

“Yes, Patrick?”

“Remind me never to play board games with you.”

David smiled so hard it hurt, and Patrick’s eyes were dancing, and then Patrick was kissing him again, and again, sweetly at first as they tried not to chuckle, but then more intently, and then Patrick’s tongue was teasing at his mouth, and his hands were all over David, and then Patrick really wasn’t playing anymore, and David felt himself lost himself in the fervent attention.

Feeling his body begin to respond, the fire spreading over his skin, David placed his hands between them, seeking out Patrick’s chest through his cotton tee and teasing his nipples through the thin cotton.

Patrick lifted his head from the spot just below David’s ear and kissed him on the mouth, hot and wet and open.

“David,” Patrick groaned desperately, mouth held just over David’s. 

David leaned up to close the distance, kissing him, ever as needy as Patrick was hungry.

“You’re mine,” Patrick told him. “You feel so right. Never letting you go.” Patrick said these things almost every time he got all hot and bothered. David didn’t mind. 

“Yes. Yes, yours,” David said in response, his attempt at nonchalance entirely ruined when Patrick ran his mouth along his jaw and sucked behind his ear again. The last word had barely come out above a hoarse whisper. He wanted Patrick; no matter how much or how often he had him, David was always desperate for more. Even when they were together, it wasn’t enough.

David shifted between them, lying back further and shifting his thigh so he could better feel Patrick against him. Patrick was already half hard, it seemed, and he began to rub against David’s thigh, and David knew from experience it wouldn’t take long for him to thicken further if they kept at it.

A few minutes of additional necking and David had also grown quite hard, and judging by the way Patrick shuddered when David ran his hand down to brush against the front of his jeans, he was similarly worked up.

“Do you want…” David ran his palm lightly over Patrick’s cock.

Patrick was beautifully flushed. “Please. God. Yes, please. Do you…?”

It was basically a rhetorical question since David always wanted it with Patrick. “Sit up so you can unzip.”

Shifting his weight and kneeling between David’s legs, Patrick undid his fly and shoved his pants down enough to pull his dick out from his pants. David loved that cock. “Very, very hard yes,” David said. He wanted it all over him. He wanted to taste it. “Fuck,” he added, as Patrick stroked himself slowly.

“Do you need some help?” Patrick said, since David hadn’t made it beyond unbuttoning the top of his own pants.

David had gotten distracted. “No, I just… no,” David said, as Patrick nodded and went to retrieve the lube from beside his bed. David quickly finished opening his pants and pulled his black and white baroque-print briefs down enough to free his cock from the overly tight confines demanded by his preferred day look.

Patrick returned quickly, mouthing at David’s neck and shoulder from behind the couch before coming back around to join David, putting his knees on either side of David’s hips to sit in his lap. David watched Patrick’s face as he added some lube to his hand and stroked himself slowly before reaching for David’s dick, his hand slick and wet. He began stroking them both slowly together with one hand.

“C’mere,” David pleaded, reaching for him, and Patrick leaned down to kiss him again, slowly sliding his cock over David’s as they made out. David grasped at Patrick’s ass and pulled him closer, silently begging him to grind down harder.

“Fuck,” Patrick said, releasing David’s mouth and dropping his head down to look between them. David surged up uncontrollably at this and sucked in air as Patrick stared, intent on watching as he stroked David’s dick. David was leaking all over his hand. “Oh fuck,” Patrick said again, seeing David’s precum drip liberally; he gathered it in his palm and began to stroke David with it, faster, and more intently.

David loved blow jobs—who didn’t—and he loved fucking and being fucked and just about everything else he’d had the opportunity to experience, but he’d always been a fan of a good old-fashioned hand job. Some things never went out of style, and Patrick had been a very fast learner.

A twinge between his shoulders brought David back to himself, and he clamped his muscles in response. He’d have to distract Patrick before they got much further. It usually helped when Patrick came first, because apparently after a half a lifetime of forced heterosexual encounters, hot gay sex often left him a little dazed and unfocused. Or maybe it was just sex with David. In either case, David loved that he got to make Patrick a little drunk on cock and unashamedly took advantage of it.

This in mind, he helped Patrick sit up, pull off his undershirt, and switch places, settling over him so that Patrick’s cock was easily accessible between them. David grabbed the lube and dribbled it into his palm, and, batting Patrick’s hands away, ran his hand over Patrick’s erection instead. Patrick watched. He loved to watch, as though he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

David stroked him leisurely a few times, running his thumb over Patrick’s tip to gather the wetness there, and then stroking him again with deliberate slowness. Patrick’s cock was thick and red, and rock hard, and as he lifted his head to look at David, his pupils were blown and his breath uneven. “David. David, fuck.” David quirked the side of his mouth in response. Patrick had made no secret of his love for David’s hands with his long fingers and the thick rings that adorned them, glistening wet now.

“Fuck, David. Please,” Patrick moaned, reaching for David’s other hand and putting a finger in his mouth, scraping his teeth along it as he pulled it back out. He kissed David’s knuckle, then did it again, sucking on it, making it as wet as David’s dick. When his finger popped free from Patrick’s mouth, David trailed it over Patrick’s jaw, leaving a wet stripe along the gorgeous angles of his face. Now _that_ was art.

Changing the angle of his grip, he began stroking Patrick a little faster, as much for his own distraction from the heady emotion filling his chest as Patrick’s pleasure, but he kept his grip on Patrick’s cock purposefully loose. Patrick made a small strangled noise and craned his head up to David’s neck, breathing in deeply and resting his forehead against David’s shoulder. “David,” Patrick said, the need clear in his voice. He forced a breathy chuckle at his own desperation.

David smiled to himself, and said sweetly, “Look at that gorgeous wood. I wouldn’t trade that away for a hundred bricks,” at which Patrick groaned at his terrible joke and dropped his head again to watch, his hips jerking uncontrollably as David tightened his hand and stroked him faster. Patrick grunted helplessly as David worked him over. “There you go. That’s it,” David said, loving the bright red staining Patrick’s cheeks and upper chest.

Patrick clutched at David’s back, fingers digging into David’s skin, David’s undershirt shoved as high as it would go beneath his arms. Patrick was sweaty and breathing heavily, and it was so fucking hot, and he said David’s name again and again as David jerked him off. When Patrick’s hips began to judder more violently, David let go of where he’d been clutching at Patrick’s ass through his jeans and selfishly slid his free hand down into Patrick’s pants, shoving them further down Patrick’s hips, so he could grasp the flesh of Patrick’s ass instead of the rough denim.

Moments later, Patrick gasped and came hard, painting stripes between them, messy on their stomachs and chests.

“Christ, David,” Patrick said, as David ran his finger along the come that had landed on Patrick’s chest before craning his neck down to kiss Patrick, keeping just enough space between them to avoid making things any messier than they already were. David let Patrick lazily enjoy his mouth as he finally reached for his own erection, which was now aching for relief. He began to stroke himself, and soon Patrick’s hand joined his, their hands moving together on his dick.

His face contorting in pleasure, David began leaking again, dribbling down onto Patrick—Patrick made him so wet—and Patrick took over as David held himself over him. Patrick grasped at David’s arm, shoulder, any part of him he could reach to touch as he capably stroked David’s cock with his other hand, intent on getting him off.

“Harder. Harder, please,” David groaned, and Patrick tightened his hand beautifully. David needed that edge, needed to feel things almost too much as the fire began licking at his back, the familiar agony that was entwined irrevocably with physical pleasure for him. He sucked in air. Patrick knew what got David off and how David liked it, and he gave it to him without question.

“That’s… good. So good. Keep… fuck.” David’s eyelids fluttered shut. This one was going to hurt. In the last year, he’d come to learn that it hurt far more to keep his body in check when there were feelings involved. There were so many feelings involved.

Opening his eyes, he found Patrick looking at him as though David was his entire world. David couldn’t handle it, that look. He shuddered. It was so good, and too much, and oh fuck, his back was going to _hurt_ when he came _._ Bad.

But he was close, so close. He clamped his eyes shut, held onto Patrick as hard as he dared, clenched his jaw, and tightened every muscle in his back so he could keep control there as the rest of his body let go.

“Patrick,” he gasped, as it all finally became too much and exploded inside of him. He came, hard, the pain in his back tearing through him with his orgasm. His whole body tightened and shook.

Then it was over. The pain was gone as quickly as it had come, a memory ingrained in his skin. Slowly, he opened his eyes. His come was spattered between them along with Patrick’s, but David didn’t really care. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. “Fuck,” he said, his face twisted half into a grimace as memory of the overwhelming sensations flitted through his brain, only then noticing that Patrick was rubbing David’s thigh, just enough pressure to ground him. He sought Patrick’s eyes, intending to reach for his hand, when he saw it—the concern that flashed across Patrick’s face before he schooled it into a tender smile, the one that he wore only for David.

Once they’d caught their breaths and exchanged a languid kiss, one that went on and on, David finally let Patrick untangle himself from beneath him, staying put himself when Patrick got up and headed to the bathroom. David lay back, boneless, and put the back of his arm over his eyes. He hoped he’d made it up, the look he’d seen in Patrick’s eyes. He’d continued to hope Patrick might never notice. No one else ever had.

Returning with a washcloth a few moments later, Patrick helped David remove his undershirt and take care of the worst of the mess. Patrick had his jeans zipped up again, but his shirt was still off, and David was tempted to pull Patrick back down to simply spend time lying together, so he could enjoy the warmth of Patrick’s skin against him. Patrick’s stomach growled before he could though, so David allowed Patrick to help him stand up.

“Now can I shower?” David teased. He tucked away his cock and pulled his pants up back into place, though he didn’t bother to button them fully, since he was headed to the bathroom.

Patrick gave a little laugh. “Sure. I can figure out something for dinner.”

Nodding, David started to leave the room when Patrick said his name. Eyebrow raised, David turned back.

“Is it too late to place the order tonight for more of that lotion or whatever it was you sampled?” Patrick asked with faux innocence.

“Mmm,” David said, shoulders loosening again. “Neck cream. But just remember: You’re going to have to sell it. Are you sure you’ll be able to control yourself?” He twisted his mouth into a chewed-up grin. “We can’t exactly do this in the back room during business hours. That would be _very_ inappropriate.”

Patrick chuckled behind him as David made his way into the bathroom. “And I thought selling the gross black toothpaste was hard,” Patrick said as David shut the bathroom door behind him.

A passing glance at his face in the bathroom mirror had David abruptly turning to start the water for his shower, as he found even the brief glimpse of his own happiness unsettling.

Suddenly anxious, he waited impatiently for the water to heat and the steam to obscure everything around him.

*********

 

David had been eight years old when he discovered Adelina had left a book at the foot of his bed. He’d squirreled away the copy of _Where Did I Come From?_ to carefully examine at his leisure and had generally found it a fascinating read, even if he’d already known some of the information. Obviously.

He’d thought that was the end of it. Sure, he learned some more in school and from friends as the years went on, but his mom and dad had remained blissfully silent on the subject, as they were with almost everything else.

Except, it hadn’t been the end of it, not for David.

Because when David was thirteen, one night he’d been messing around a little, rubbing against the mattress because it felt good, when all of a sudden he found himself covered in feathers, his favorite pyjama top—a repeated black and white print of Japanese cranes in flight—in tatters around him, and a strange weight on his back. He looked around, horrified, and found the thickest, heaviest feathers moved with him. He could _move them._ Not just random feathers, he had _wings._ He tried to remove them from his back, unsure how they’d gotten there, but they wouldn’t come off, and it hurt to try, and by then David had been one hundred percent certain he was dying.

He wanted to call for mom, but she was in another part of the house, if she was home at all. Adelina had gone home for the night, and Alexis had still been a little kid who thought she’d been ordered on AOL and delivered by FedEx or maybe a stork, so he definitely couldn’t explain to her what had happened.

After a few minutes passed and he didn’t die, David managed to extract the rest of his ruined pyjama top from his body, and he was brave enough to stand up to take a quick glance in his mirror, peering over his shoulder at the bizarre sight of the two black and white wings—nearly as tall as he was and many times wider when unfurled—that emerged neatly from his back. The sight sent him diving back into his bed, where he tried not to hyperventilate.

This…definitely wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal. David already knew he was a little different in some ways _,_ something he dealt with in later years by regularly slipping some of his mom’s Xanax into his pockets and, eventually, lots and lots of therapy. But this—this was a whole other level of not right. He’d never ever heard a whisper of wings or feathers as he’d stood by the dodgeball court and tried not to get dirty during recess. And it had never once come up in third period health class. He was a freak. A monster. Half animal.

He lay awake in bed for hours into the night, wide eyed and panicking. Sometime after midnight he got up and decided to get rid of whatever evidence he could, shoving the loose stray feathers, most of them jet black with white tips, and his destroyed pyjamas into the very back of his fourth closet, where he kept all his secret things, tucked away beneath his old rock polisher. The cleanup effort had been awkward because he kept becoming unbalanced and bumping into things with his wings, but eventually he managed to get everything tucked away. He made sure it looked like the contents of the closet had been untouched; he didn’t want Adelina to know what he’d done, because if she found out, she’d tell his mom.

Eventually he’d dozed off. He must have. And when he awoke again, when Adelina knocked to remind him to hurry down to have breakfast before school, he found to his complete surprise that he was neither dead nor winged. He tried to feel around his back with his hands, but there was nothing abnormal for him to feel. In fact, the wings had somehow vanished entirely. He checked his back from every angle in his full-length mirrors, looking for any sign of a cut or scar or bit of feather, but his back looked exactly as it had the morning before. Only the evidence in his closet proved that the night before had happened at all.

Two days later his mother had knocked on his door, entered without waiting for his response, sat him down, handed him a feather that Adelina must have found, and told him about the birds and the bees. Or, in his case, the extremely rare familial trait that ran through her bloodline from her father’s side, like a penchant for twins, except manifesting only once in a handful of generations and marked by majestic wings loosed in celebration of glorious release.  

At the look on his face, she’d changed tack. A gift, she called it. Though it was not one she herself had apparently received. David’s great grandmother had been the last.

“But David,” she’d said. “You must celebrate these splendid tidings, and I, _I_ shall be a mother humbled by the knowledge that I have bestowed this familial donative upon my only oscine offspring.”

David knew then that it was nothing like a gift; at least, it wasn’t one he wanted, but unlike others he’d received over the years that fell firmly into that category, it was nonrefundable. Nor could he pass it off to Alexis, though he’d asked his mother this, just in case.

“But where did they go?” David had asked. “There’s no room for wings anywhere.”

“I’m afraid blueprints rarely accompany enigmas,” she had replied, “But I’ve been made to believe they reside in your heart.”

This made even less sense then his own theories about where the wings had disappeared to. “But how do they fit?”

“Oh David,” she had said. “There’s no need to be so literal.”

Only his mom ever knew he was a freak of nature—Dad and Alexis had no reason to guess—and even his mother had never spoken of it again. David was determined to keep it that way. He’d contacted a few of the top physicians and specialty surgeons when he was older, explaining his issue in the very strictest confidence, but they generally knew even less than he did about his condition, and they certainly never had any answers for him, if they even believed him at all. And none of them would even begin to consider removing the wings. David suspected they were probably afraid of being sued.

So David learned to control the wings instead, found ways to keep the appendages in his back where they belonged, if they had to be a part of him at all. One meaningless encounter after another had helped, as the wings were controlled by muscles in his back, so the muscles had only gotten stronger with use. But it was always a little painful to keep them from unfolding. Sometimes a lot painful. The wings were natural for his body, and David had been quick to realize it never hurt to let them appear. Quite the opposite really. It felt good. Really good. As such, it was a constant temptation to just…let go, and David had never been particularly self-disciplined.

A handful of times over the years David had given in, once or twice taking himself in hand in the privacy of his dual rainfall walk-in shower in SoHo, for example, but always, _always_ alone. It was nothing short of bliss to let the wings unfold from his back when he came, but the pleasure was always short-lived. Hot shame inevitably pooled in his belly when he lay in bed alone afterward, waiting for them to go away, desperate for them to. Less terrified now than when he was a kid, but just as eager to get rid of the evidence. 

Years upon years of therapy ensued, some therapists being better than others. He had said goodbye to his most recent one not long before coming to Schitt’s Creek, leaving soon after she suggested his continued choice to surround himself with winged things he both hated and feared was not, in fact, immersion therapy, but rather some twisted form of self-punishment. As though he needed to do that when his goddamn wings were punishment enough.

By the time he’d gotten to Schitt’s Creek, keeping his wings under lock and key had become routine, and only very rarely did the opportunity for a physical dalliance present itself anyway. He’d always thoroughly enjoyed sex regardless of its moderately painful conclusion, as the agony was typically no worse than having to make awkward small talk after one person had eaten out another person but had no intention of sharing breakfast afterward.

Then he met Patrick, and for the first time, someone looked at David and saw him. Really, really, saw him. It was deeply uncomfortable at times, being seen, and David continued to hope Patrick didn’t see _everything,_ even though his mom said that he did. David had lots of practice keeping his deeply shameful secret, but Patrick noticed a lot, no matter how hard David tried to keep certain parts of himself hidden away.

It was a good thing David had lots of closets.

 

*********

 

David was just finishing up a call with a vendor when his mom appeared inside the Apothecary, the bottom of her dramatic eyelet cape arriving a moment after the rest of her. Her pants had stylized swallows at each hip. Patrick had been taking inventory of their kitchen supplies and was currently engaged in the stock room, which was perfectly fine with David. He actively attempted to subject Patrick to his family as little as possible.

“Hello, David,” she said, approaching the till, leading with her chin.

David tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as he shook his head a little. “Hi,” he said when he dramatically opened his eyes again.

“I have a little something that I thought I’d return to you,” she said. She reached into her bag. “Ah, yes, here ‘tis,” she added, pulling out a long pure white feather and placing it on the counter. “I assume this is yours. You really ought to be more careful.”

David felt his mouth drop open, and he looked at her aghast. “What?” He paused and looked between her and the feather. “Why? Why would you—that’s not—why. Why?” His eyes sharpened to daggers, and he said, “That’s _not_ mine.” He pointedly looked at the back room and mouthed “Patrick” at her before stepping back to place as much space between himself and the feather as possible. He could feel the framed business license at his back.

Ignoring any and all of his nonverbal cues, she said, “Well, it looks like—”

“No,” David said. “No. It most certainly does not.” The feather had nothing to do with him. It literally couldn’t have. His were mostly black, and anyway, he hadn’t succumbed to temptation even once—not _once_ since they’d come to Schitt’s Creek. He shared a room with his _sister_ for god’s sake _,_ and he barely had room to turn around in their tiny bathroom as it was _._ But that was _not_ something he would be discussing with his mother. And for fuck’s sake, why now? This was the first time she’d ever even hinted at his condition in more than twenty years.

She gave him a sad smile, which infuriated him further. “I found it by your bed.”

“Why were you in my room?” he snapped, even though she was always in his and Alexis’s room. He gestured wildly at it. “Get it out of here. It’s probably from Alexis’s dumb new body pillow anyway—”

Patrick emerged from the back then, briefly surveying the scene. “Hello, Mrs. Rose,” he said cheerfully. “David, we do need to order more of the cheese knives, but other than that, I think we’re good on the kitchenware until Tuesday.”

“Oh, David,” his mom said, drawing out his name even longer than normal, as was her tendency with a third-party present. “Is your daedal little five-and-ten faltering already? Your father and I knew this day would come, but we dared hope it would not be so soon—”

“Oh my god.” He turned to her abruptly. “No,” he said. “We—” he paused to gesture emphatically between himself and Patrick, and then the store as a whole, “—are doing just fine. Even better, in fact, if you’d take your business elsewhere.”

Patrick patted him on the shoulder before turning to head back into the stock room. “Why don’t I reach out to the Moores and see if they have any more of the knives they can send us.”

David quickly said, “No need. I’ll take care of it. My mother was just leaving.”

“Yes, I must be off. Council awaits.” She swept back towards the shop entrance. “Oh, David, I’ll take one of those cheese knives. At cost, of course.”

“No, you won’t,” David clarified, and, seeing as she had not taken the detestable feather with her, added, “For you, the price is double. Double!”

He made a face as the bell on the door tinkled behind her. He half wished her cape would get caught in the door, but it wasn’t McQueen’s fault his mother was a fashion-conscious she-devil.

Breathing out dramatically, he picked up the offending feather between his thumb and forefinger, dropped it into the waste bin, and decided to light some orange Ylang Ylang incense and call the Moores before Patrick asked him to help with inventory and his day got any worse.

 

*********

 

“David, have you seen my boots?” his mom called from her adjoining motel room.

“You borrowed mom’s boots, David?” Alexis asked, not looking up from her phone. 

“Why would I have taken your boots? I haven’t been your shoe size since I was ten,” David called back. He was laying on his bed, trying to relax after dinner until Patrick finished at baseball practice.

“God, David. You’re supposed to use the sign-out sheet if you’re going to borrow mom’s shoes,” Alexis added.

“There’s no sign-out sheet for anyone’s shoes,” his dad called from the next room. “Just the car. Which you’re all still supposed to be using, yet I don’t see—”

“And mom’s wigs,” Alexis pointed out.

Their dad appeared in the doorway between the two rooms to give them a _look_. “There’s no sign-out sheet for your mother’s wigs because no one _borrows_ your mother’s wigs. Now, Alexis, do you have the keys? I need the car in an hour. It says you were the last person to—”

“I have the keys, John,” his mother said.

“Honey, could you please use the sign-out—”

“My nails weren’t dry, John.”

“But they were dry enough to take the keys?”

“David, my boots!” his mom wailed instead of replying.

“Yeah, give them back, David,” Alexis added.

“David, give your mother back her boots,” his dad said.

“I don’t have your boots!” David said loudly. “What boots are you even talking about?”

“The ones you took, obviously,” Alexis murmured. Abruptly, she held out her phone. “Look, David. Ew, David. Ew.”

David leaned over between their beds to take her phone, grimacing and mouthing the word “yikes” when he saw the serious red-carpet misstep. He handed the phone back, as his mother gave a little shriek in the next room.

“The cutaway Choos with the needle heel. John, I can’t find them! Do you think that some ill adventure has befallen them? David!”

“She doesn’t even ask me,” Alexis said to David before calling into the other room to their mother. “I’m your shoe size, you know.”

“Oh Alexis, I don’t think so, dear.” Their mom’s head, which had briefly appeared in the doorway, disappeared again.

“The corset ones or the ones with the hammered studs?” David asked.

“Corset _obviously.”_ She drew out the word. “Can you imagine?”

David called back, “Haven’t seen them.”

“Have you checked behind your brown bag?”

“Of course, John!” Moira returned to her room with a screech. A crash and another screech soon followed.

“Eurgh.” Alexis made a face and handed her phone back to David.

He glanced at the photo. “Seriously? Those shoes? Um, hello, it’s not even—”

“Right?” Alexis said, taking her phone back. “Are you going to Patrick’s?”

“Yes,” he said. “Soon.”

“Can you drop me off at Ted’s?”

“Fine,” David said. “If you get the keys from Mom.”

“No one is going anywhere until your mother finds her shoes.”

“Boots,” David and Alexis corrected their dad simultaneously, as their mother screeched again.

Ignoring it, David got up to pack for Patrick’s, and Alexis went to retrieve the car keys from their parents’ room while they were distracted.

“John! John! I see them! John! My boots!”

“Oh Moira, that’s great!” He started to head back through to his room to assist just as Alexis returned with the keys, but he paused as she pushed her way past him. “Now wait a moment, kids. I’m not sure we agreed that you could have the car tonight.”

“Mmm,” David said, carefully sorting through his knits for third alternate outfit to add to his overnight bag in case he changed his mind a second time in the morning.

“It’s fine,” Alexis said, tossing the keys to David, who gave her a dirty look. If he wanted to be near flying objects, he would have gone to watch Patrick’s practice.

Their dad frowned. “Alexis—”

“Dad, I think mom needs you,” Alexis said, turning her back to him and adding a second makeup case into her own overnight bag.

“John? Could you come here, please?”

“Be right there, Moira.”

“Dad, go!” Alexis said with a huff.

David added a fourth alternate outfit to his pack and changed out his second one in case of a light drizzle. He glanced up at Alexis, who was now fixing her makeup. “Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked.

She made a face. “Um, _no._ I’ve been wearing this since, like, lunch.”

“M’kay.” He mimicked her high-pitched voice. “Then you might want to change. I want to go as soon as I’m packed.”

“David, it takes you at least an hour to pack.”

“Exactly,” he said, looking up as he finished carefully folding his cardinal-silhouette Valentino knit. “It takes you an hour to change. And you haven’t even started.”

“Ughh, David!”

 

*********

 

 When David finally arrived at Patrick’s an hour later, he found Patrick freshly showered after practice and smelling all soapy and wholesome. His hair was even a little damp.

“Come in,” Patrick said after a quick kiss hello in the doorway. “You ate?”

“That’s never stopped me before.” David put down his bag and turned to him.

“I grabbed something quickly after practice, but I could make popcorn. Do you want to watch a movie?”

David thought about it for a second: Popcorn would overpower Patrick’s Eau de Irish Spring. Then again, salty carbs. “Maybe popcorn later?”

“Sure,” Patrick replied, as agreeable as ever. “I might make tea though. Do you want something?”

David had never dated anyone who liked tea as much as Patrick. “Not right now. So, how was practice?” David asked.

Patrick brightened. “The Elmdale winter league season hasn’t started yet, but it was good to get out and throw the ball around and do some fielding drills while the pitchers and catchers worked.” David watched him put water on the stove.

“Mmm,” David teased. “You didn’t tell me there’d be drilling. Should I be jealous?”

“Yes. We get very dirty,” Patrick said as he dug around his cabinet for the right tea as they waited for the water.

He began to nudge and pet Patrick’s upper arm as he breathed in the lingering soapy smell of him. “And what about… pitching and catching. Do you ever…do those positions?”

“Nah,” Patrick said. “I’m not very good at either. Sometimes I play left, and every once in a while, I’ll cover third, but that’s about it.”

David stopped his petting and wrapped his arms around Patrick. “Well, I think you’re great at both. Pitching and catching. We’re both VIPs of that.”

“MVPs. And that’s all you know about baseball, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” David said, nodding emphatically, and then smiling into Patrick’s shoulder. “It always seemed like the most relevant part. Oh, but speaking of games, I took the liberty of reserving next Saturday night for a board game night. I think we should invite Stevie, Alexis, and Ted, even though Alexis doesn’t take board games seriously enough, but I think it would be worth it to get Ted—I know it seems like he wouldn’t really get it, but he’s actually a worthy opponent, and eventually you tune out the terrible puns—and then we just need one more person. Maybe someone from _Cabaret_?”

Patrick looked at him fondly and shook his head a little. “Just no spin the bottle.” He paused, then added, “Or Twister.”

“Promise,” David said, using his best Cute Face on Patrick. “So…what do you want to do tonight?” David asked, because Patrick had agreed to game night more easily than he anticipated.

“I’m honestly a little tired. We could put on a movie, though. I’d probably make it to the end.” The water on the stove started whistling, so Patrick quickly rescued it and poured the steaming water into his favorite mug after dropping a tea bag inside.

“Or…we could go to bed early,” David suggested, because Patrick still smelled like soap, and it was doing things to him. He wanted to taste Patrick’s skin to see if he tasted like it too. Also, if Patrick didn’t make it to the end of the movie, they couldn’t make out afterward, which was generally the best part of movie nights.

“It’s not even nine o’clock. I’m not _that_ tired,” Patrick said. “Unless you just want an excuse to get in bed together.”

“That,” David said, “is exactly what I want.” He petted Patrick’s arm again a few times.

“It was all that talk of pitching and catching, wasn’t it?” Patrick teased, pulling the teabag from his mug and stirring the water a little.

“Hot,” David confirmed. “So hot.”

Patrick grinned as he slurped a little water from the top of his mug. His eyes were dancing. “Tell you what. I’m going to go put my pyjamas on and get into bed. You should come join me. I’m very tired from practice, though, and I’ve got this nice mug of tea, so you might have to do a bit of convincing if you want me to, you know, do anything else.”

David loved him so much. “I can be very convincing,” he said, trying to hide his smile through a series of facial expressions that ultimately proved unsuccessful. Patrick smiled back at him fondly.

He watched as Patrick put the mug of tea on the nightstand by the bed and began to change into his customary t-shirt and boxers bedtime ensemble. The boxers were light blue, and his soft grey t-shirt had their shop logo printed on it. David had made it very clear that it was incorrect for them to wear their own shirts out in public—they weren’t tacky billboards—but in private was fair game. Patrick wore his to sleep in a _lot._

“Coming?” Patrick asked after a moment.

David swallowed and nodded. He’d meant to turn off the brighter kitchen light in favor of the lamp on Patrick’s nightstand but had ended up just watching Patrick get ready for bed and reveling in the difference between Patrick’s apartment and the motel rooms he shared with his family. Here, no one was accusing him of borrowing boots that were clearly seven sizes too small or yelling to him through the walls about missing garments or keys. No one was shoving every feather she came across in his face. Patrick’s apartment was like Patrick himself: clean, relaxing, compact, with just a bit of softness over strong foundations. It wasn’t perfect, and neither was Patrick—David couldn’t let go of the shoes Patrick had worn to work last Monday that easily, and they had their share of other issues to work through—but he was perfect for David. David was suddenly overwhelmed by how much he cared for Patrick, an oasis of calm in the chaos that seemed inevitably to surround him.

“You okay?”

David was, but the realization of how much he’d come to cherish the simple domesticity with Patrick, with his soap and tea and familiar routines, had caught him off guard.

“Yep,” he replied, somewhat unsettled. He’d never ever imagined this for himself, either that he’d want it or that someone would eventually want it with him, since past experience expressly told him otherwise, reinforcing it with every additional date or encounter he’d had over the years. “Yeah. Yes,” he said again. He finished turning out the light.

“C’mere.”

David went. And Patrick kissed him as though he understood, though he couldn’t have, because David was rarely calm or simple or routine, and he most certainly never smelled like Irish Spring. The kiss turned into another, one that lingered, and Patrick sighed a little when it ended.

David ran his thumb over Patrick’s cheek.

“I love you,” Patrick said softly, looking at David.

Feeling vulnerable, David kissed Patrick again, deeply. Those words may never flow as freely from his mouth as they did from Patrick’s, but Patrick had told him that was okay, so he showed Patrick instead, pulling him close and kissing him again, relishing how Patrick closed his eyes and melted into their embrace. He needed Patrick to know. His skin felt a little too tight, like everything inside of him no longer fit and was trying to get out. He made a desperate sound, and slid his tongue into Patrick’s mouth, kissing him more urgently, trying to figure out how he could let it.

David released his lips and pressed his forehead to Patrick’s. He didn’t have the right words, because he couldn’t say the ones he wanted to, and it made him ache, so instead he just let Patrick breathe the same air, mouths close. Patrick made a little noise and surged up to kiss him again, opening his mouth hungrily, and Patrick’s hands began to rove over his sweater.

When Patrick finally pulled back, it was with a chuckle. “I guess I’m not as tired as I thought.” He quirked a half smile before releasing David from his arms and turning back to the bed. “Want to change and join me?”  

David did, but then other words came out of his mouth with a whoosh before he thought to stop them. “Can I suck you?” He needed to show Patrick. He needed to show him or he might explode.

Patrick’s mouth parted slightly, and his eyes darkened. “You—I mean, yes. God, yes.”

David immediately sank to his knees. He wanted it so badly.

“Don’t you want—the bed?” Patrick protested lightly.

David wanted to be on his knees; he didn’t know why, he didn’t want to think about it, so he just backed Patrick up a step until he was against the side of the bed so Patrick could lean back if he wanted. Who said he wasn’t good at compromise.

“Like this,” David said, lifting his hands up to Patrick’s waist and sliding them underneath the loose t-shirt he wore, running his hands slowly up and then down Patrick’s sides. He held Patrick steady and began to mouth along Patrick’s cock through the thin boxers.

“David—fuck.”

Biting back a smile, David looked up at Patrick as he did it again, letting his mouth and warm breath start to moisten the thin material. He could still smell the soap on Patrick’s skin—why did that make him so fucking hard, just the smell of soapy Patrick—and he breathed it in as he ran his hand over Patrick’s burgeoning erection, pleased that Patrick was already hardening and beginning to tent his boxers. David took his time sucking and stroking Patrick through the material.

Patrick cursed as David mouthed the head of his cock through the wet cotton. “Please,” he gasped. “Suck it.”

David released Patrick’s cock from his mouth, smiling crookedly up at him as David once more slid his hands up under Patrick’s shirt, this time sliding them down further and carefully pulling Patrick’s boxers down as he went, enjoying the sight of Patrick’s dick as it bobbed free, getting so hard for him, and, fuck, David wanted to taste him. He let the boxers fall to Patrick’s feet.

Stepping free of them, Patrick nudged them aside and started to pull the t-shirt over his head when David stopped him.

“You can leave it on,” David said, his voice inadvertently exposing a good deal more than he intended.

Patrick looked down and something twisted in David’s chest when he smiled gently. The Rose Apothecary logo, already fading from his wearing it to bed and washing it so frequently, was intimately _theirs._ “Okay,” Patrick agreed softly, and he leaned down to kiss David, who stretched up to meet his mouth for a hungry, messy kiss. David stroked the flat of his hand lightly over Patrick’s cock as they kissed, and Patrick groaned into his mouth, unable to keep his hips entirely still.

Ending the kiss, David returned his full attention to Patrick’s cock. Holding the base, he flattened his tongue and licked along the length of it, from root to tip, before taking the head in his mouth and sucking gently. Patrick tasted so good. David loved the taste of him. He released it briefly to slide his mouth along the underside as he stroked the rest of Patrick’s length with a spit-slicked hand.

Patrick gasped out David’s name, gripping the edge of the bed where he stood and letting his head fall back, eyes closed, as David took more of Patrick deep into his mouth.

Pulling back, David watched Patrick’s hips jerk uncontrollably under the twist of his hand. Leaning down again, he licked and then lightly sucked on Patrick’s balls, which he’d discovered was something Patrick liked. A lot. Patrick twitched again in response, and David felt his face twist as he returned to licking and sucking on Patrick’s cock, holding Patrick’s hips still as he took him as deeply into his mouth as he could then slowly pulling off again. Curling his tongue around the tip as he sucked, he looked up to find Patrick was watching him, his lips parted and wet, his eyes hooded, pupils blown. Patrick watching him like that—it made David’s own cock ache. He adjusted himself slightly in his pants before steadying Patrick’s hips again with one hand and holding the base of his cock with the other so he could alternatingly take him deep in his throat and pull off again in some semblance of rhythm. He caught Patrick’s gaze as often as he was able, since Patrick liked that even more than attention to his balls. His eyes watered as he swallowed around him.

“Fuck, David. David, fuck.” Patrick’s face and neck were pink, and his eyes were hooded as he watched, his breathing strained and audible. “That’s so fucking good. You’re fucking unbelievable.” Patrick rarely cursed except during sex, which made David so hot, because no one else got to hear those words from him.

David drew his mouth away, spit in his hand, and stroked him again. “If the women who bought the wool throw from you this morning could hear you now.”

“Fuck. Don’t talk about them. They tried to set me up with one of their daughters.”

“I know,” David said, breathing out a stream of air across the tip of Patrick’s cock, causing him to shudder. “I heard them.”   

“Never,” Patrick said. “Only you.”

“And why is that?” David asked before licking lightly over and around his sensitive pink head. David’s throat felt raw and the words rough, but it was definitely only because he’d been taking Patrick deep into his throat. Definitely.

“Because you’re right for me.”

“Yes,” David said, and took him fully in his mouth once more, swallowing him down then drawing off of him slowly, and then doing it again, more quickly, and harder, hollowing his cheeks for Patrick to see, because Patrick was right for him too. He could show him. Over and over, he would show him.

David could tell Patrick was getting close; he was breathing harshly and clenching his hand the way he often did when he was trying not to come. David helped by tightening his hand around the base of Patrick’s cock.

Patrick grunted at the pressure. “Fuck—I’m gonna come as soon as you let go.”

“In my mouth,” David said, because even if it was sloppy, he kind of liked it, and Patrick thought it was hot, and anyway, it was better than getting it on his Possessed Moth hoodie or in his hair or god knew where else.

“Oh god,” Patrick whimpered. “I’m going to come so hard.”

“Good.” He took Patrick back into his mouth and began sucking as Patrick gripped the back of his head.  

“I, uh, might come even if you don’t let go,” Patrick warned, and David felt himself smile around him.

Pulling off again but keeping a tight hold at the root, David placed open mouthed kisses along the underside of Patrick’s cock, David asked, “So I should keep going?”

“David—”

“I can keep doing this—”

“David!” Patrick groaned.

David smirked, gave Patrick’s balls a teasing lick, and then swallowed Patrick’s cock without preamble as he let go of the base to stroke the rest of him firmly. Patrick came within moments, watching as he filled David’s mouth and saying David’s name over and over.

When Patrick finished and the small residual jerks of his hips finally stilled, he pulled his cock free, and David quickly swallowed and wiped his mouth with his hand. Only a few seconds later, Patrick practically fell down next to him the floor, leaning into him, needing to touch. He nuzzled David’s neck, kissing along it and his jaw.

“That was so amazing. God you’re amazing. I never knew—I almost never knew…”

David let him talk, because sometimes those sorts of things still came out of his mouth after sex, even though they’d been together a while now, but eventually, he asked Patrick to hand him a tissue from the nightstand so he could clean up a bit further. Also, David’s knees were killing him, and he really had to get up.

Thankfully, Patrick was easily maneuvered up and into the bed, and David took a few minutes to himself in the bathroom to wash his hands and brush his teeth, pull off some of his unnecessary clothes, and, eventually, pee.

He grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and set it on the table beside Patrick’s bed. Patrick reached for him and kissed him lightly. “Your turn?”

“I’m good. That was just for you,” David said, because it was true. He hadn’t come, but he wasn’t hard anymore, and he’d just really wanted to do that for Patrick. He could be selfless—on occasion. Also, it wasn’t like he hadn’t enjoyed himself thoroughly, and his skin felt like it fit properly again. It had been for David too. He’d needed it. “Besides, weren’t you really tired?”

“Yeah,” Patrick admitted. He made a show of collapsing backwards in exhaustion.

“Me too,” David said. He changed the rest of the way into his pyjamas and soon found himself curled against Patrick’s side as Patrick lay propped up in bed by pillows, one hand aimlessly stroking the back of David’s head and neck.

“I have a question,” Patrick said, his fingers stilling on David’s hairline.

“Okay,” David said, unsure what to make of Patrick’s tone, and starting to worry, because that’s what he did. He tried rein in his anxiety. “Okay,” he said again.

He craned his neck so he could look up at Patrick.

Patrick hesitated then asked, “Are you feeling okay?”

David made a dramatic frowny face. “Well, I was until now.”

Patrick huffed out a laugh, and suddenly his fingers were moving along David’s neck again. “I only mean, did you injure yourself somehow? Maybe in the store, moving boxes or something?”

“No,” David said, laying his head back down against Patrick. “But if you wanted to carry all the heavy boxes from now on, all you had to do is ask.”

“I’m not sure I said that,” Patrick replied. “Are you maybe sick, or… it just seems like something is hurting you.” He hesitated again. “When we’re together, I mean.”

“I love when we’re together,” David said, because it was true and because he wished very much that Patrick would trust him and not press further.

“Right. No, I know. I mean. A few times it has seemed like…like it might hurt maybe. When we have sex. And then tonight you didn’t want to…”

David had hoped this day would never come. He hated his wings with everything in him. He couldn’t tell Patrick; it was too weird and strange and fucked up, and Patrick was so…nothing about him was weird or strange or shameful or any of those other things. He didn’t deserve weird, and somehow, he’d gotten David, and that was more than enough to contend with already. Patrick didn’t need to know all of the ways David was fucked up and damaged.  

As he thought about how to respond, Patrick began speaking again.

“I know we’ve obviously both been tested, so it’s nothing like that, but I looked online after you were here last time, and it said maybe a UTI or—”

David cut him off before Patrick continued any further. “No, I just wanted tonight to be about you. That’s all.” He paused before adding, “And I’m not sick. My back hurts sometimes; that’s all.”

“Huh.” Patrick paused. “Like your dad’s bad back? ‘Cause, I have to say, David, I sometimes thought he was making that up.”

“Oh, he was. His back is fine.” David kept his face turned from Patrick, because Alexis said he was a terrible liar. He wasn’t lying, exactly, but he wasn’t sure how much Patrick needed to know about his fucked-up genetics, now or ever. There wasn’t some _Cosmo_ quiz to tell him if and when to reveal the secrets he was most ashamed of and still keep his perfect man. But he also didn’t want Patrick to spend his time needlessly Googling home remedies for UTIs.

He didn’t want Patrick to worry about him at all, except for the things that he did want him to worry about, like helping makes sure moths didn’t follow him into the motel or getting rid of the bug he trapped under a glass in the storeroom at work. Besides, David was fine. He had it all under control. He didn’t know how to explain that, though, so eventually he just clarified a little further. “It’s different. It’s my upper back. Sort of like a muscle spasm. I’ve always had it.”

“Okay. But it seems like it really hurts you. Have you thought about seeing a doctor?”

“It’s not that bad,” David said. “I’m fine.”

“David, you made me to take you to Urgent Care in Elmdale for a paper cut.”

“There was blood. It was dire.”

“David—”

David pulled away and looked up at Patrick. “It’s fine.” He flopped back on his own pillow.

“Okay,” Patrick said after a minute, sliding down in the bed to lie beside him. “If you’re really okay.”

“You can rub my back if you insist.”

“I thought you said you were fine,” Patrick teased.

David knew the conversation was probably not over, but he needed time to figure out how much to explain, and Patrick’s penchant for introducing levity into serious discussions had just given him that.

“Mmm. I am, but I’m pretty sure we’ve been over this,” David said, playing along and turning from Patrick so he could be the little spoon, and so Patrick could have easy access to his back.

“Yes, yes. It’s always a good time for pancakes, back rubs, and Julias,” Patrick recited dutifully. He reached to turn off the lamp by the bed, then curled up behind David, kissing him on the shoulder before settling in.

The back rub was very short-lived though, and David listened as Patrick’s breathing began to even out almost immediately.

“Good night, Patrick,” he said quietly after several minutes had passed and he was no closer to sleep himself.

“Drop the bat, David,” Patrick mumbled behind him, putting his arm over David and snuggling in close. “Drop the bat.”


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second of the three parts in this story. The third and final part will be posted tomorrow.
> 
> Thank you for all of your kind feedback thus far!

The next day over Cheerios, David caught Patrick watching him with a concerned look on his face. He realized he had just stretched his back, cracking it and groaning in response, which was a customary move for him in the morning. Grumpiness was also a significant part of his morning routine, and as such, he found Patrick’s reaction somewhat annoying. He had said he was fine.

The bright morning sun was pouring in, and then the bird that had been squawking away in the distance became several times louder, landing just outside Patrick’s window, which was cracked open to catch the cool air while they’d slept.

To his credit, Patrick had gotten a coffee maker when it became clear that David couldn’t function without coffee in the mornings, but even coffee could only accomplish so much before nine a.m., which was when they had to be at the store to open. David sipped his coffee, trying to focus on it rather than Patrick, who was far too chipper in the mornings. It could be a lot. He rubbed his temple and tried to ignore the fact that Patrick was still looking at him. That he was fully awake and bright-eyed was also somehow incredibly irritating.

“David—” Patrick sounded hesitant, but he was saying it anyway, and David really wasn’t having this conversation again when it was barely dawn. He looked at the clock—okay, it was 8:37 a.m. But still. It was ungodly early, and he hadn’t slept well, and his coffee was over-brewed and bitter, because Patrick only drank tea and didn’t _know,_ and the damn bird call was carving its way through his skull.

“Nope. No,” David said.

Patrick sighed heavily and sat down across from him at the little table crowding the little kitchen in the tiny little apartment. David continued to sip at his coffee and tried to ignore everything besides the way it scalded his mouth.

The mug was halfway to his mouth again when Patrick started speaking. “I had some time this morning before you were up, so I got online, and I found an orthopedic doctor one town over from Elmdale who is accepting new patients. I emailed you her information.”

David had been down this path; he knew the physician would not be able to help him, but he couldn’t expect Patrick to know that. Breathing out slowly, David put down his coffee and scrubbed his face with his hands. He knew he was particularly grumpy, but _really._ “Is there any way we can not have this conversation right now?” At least the goddamn blue jay had flown away again.

Patrick’s face fell a little, and he looked away. “Right. Sorry. I’ve been up for hours, and I just—you know what? It doesn’t matter. You have the email. We can talk about it later, if you want.” He took his phone out of his pocket, and David watched as he opened ESPN’s website and started scrolling.

Feeling bad then, because Patrick was really only trying to help, David felt his shoulders fall as the frustration seem to pour out of him to make way for guilt.

“Fine," he said, defeated by Patrick’s expression. “I’ll see a doctor.” It would probably be pointless, and a small-town doctor wouldn’t believe him anyway, but then again, maybe there was some sort of reasonable painkiller he could get if he described some of the symptoms. At the end of the day, all Patrick really wanted was for him not to hurt.

Patrick looked up at him, hope clear as day on his face. “Really?” He set his phone down on the table.

“Yes,” David said. “I’ll stop by Ted’s.”

“Ted? Ted isn’t—”

“Ted helped me in the past when I used to have panic attacks. He’s the closest thing to a doctor here.” Ted probably even had more relevant knowledge about David’s actual problem than a normal doctor, given that the issue was his highly unfortunate pair of, oh, _giant fucking wings._ Not that David would ever in a million years actually tell Ted about them.

Patrick opened his mouth to protest, but David spoke first, firmly adding, “I’ll start with Ted.”

Patrick closed his mouth for a moment, pausing for a split second before responding. “Sure. Whatever you think, of course,” he said.  

“I’ll stop by after work today. Unless you think I should leave early to go,” David said. “I mean, if you’re really worried, I should just stay home sick altogether. In fact, I should probably just get back in bed right now.” He made to get up from the table.

“David, you’re going to work.”

“But my back,” he protested.

“Work, David. It’s time for work.”

David unbegrudgingly managed half a smile for him, which was a whole half a smile more than he’d ever before achieved before ten a.m. He hadn’t known his face was even capable of it before that moment. But Patrick looked grateful, his face soft and his eyes all happy, as they both got up from the table to finish getting ready and head over to the Apothecary.

*********

“David!” Ted looked happy to see him when he entered the clinic late that afternoon. His new assistant had pointed David into the exam room even though he hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Sure enough, Ted had a dog on the table, but it didn’t seem like he minded David’s surprise appearance, and Ted didn’t seem to be bothered either. It was a good start, though Ted looked happy pretty much constantly, so it wasn’t exactly a high bar.

“Hi,” David said. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

“Of course. I’m just wrapping up with Chopper, here.”

The dog looked at him sadly with its big droopy ears and sad doggy eyes. “Will it… be okay?” David tried not to grimace.

“Yep! _Fur_ -tunately, it was just an ear infection.”

David forced himself to laugh.

Ted grinned. “Let me just take her out to Mrs. Winkle so they can head out. It’ll only take a minute.”

David awkwardly stood aside as Ted took the dog out into the waiting room, giving them wide berth to pass by. The last thing he needed was an ear infection himself.

“So, what can I do for you, bud?” Ted asked when he returned shortly thereafter. He began to wash his hands in the sink.

David glanced out into the waiting room, which now seemed empty. Still. “Do you mind if I…” He delicately shut the door to the exam room. “Okay, yes. There we go.”

Ted turned around and raised his eyebrow. “Is everything okay? Alexis is fine, isn’t she? I just saw her at lunch.”

“She’s fine. She stopped by the shop and was talking with Patrick when I left.”

Ted nodded. “So…?”

“Right. Um. See, the thing is.” David folded and unfolded his arms nervously, looking around the room for help. “Remember, uh, when I came to you about the—when I had the pulmonary embolism?”

“Panic attack.”

“Right.” David frowned. “So I, um, have another issue. I was wondering if you could maybe…help.”

“Oh,” Ted said. “I mean, I can try. But you should probably see a—”

“It’s my back,” he said quickly to stop Ted before he echoed Patrick. He gestured awkwardly at his back, as though Ted might not know where it was.

“Your back. Hmm. I really think you should go to a specialist or—”

“No,” David said. “I’ve seen several already. It’s a chronic issue. It hurts sometimes, that’s all. It feels somewhat like a muscle spasm, or sometimes like a bad cramp. Patrick thought I should check to see if there was anything that would help.”

“Yeah, uh, David, I gotta say, this really isn’t my specialty. I can’t even legally write you a script unless you have four legs. You don’t have any extra limbs, right?” Ted joked.

“No,” David said, shutting that line of questioning down immediately. “No, I do not.”

“You know RICE, right? You could try that. Rest, Ice, Compression, Eleva—”

“No, that’s not—that’s not going to help.” Frustrated, David knew his tone was getting very high-pitched and brusque, so he tried to adjust.

“Okay…?” Ted looked at him.

This wasn’t going well. Of course it wasn’t going well. But David did not want to have to see another doctor about this, especially because it wasn’t even a problem anyway, and it was genetic, and never going away, and he dealt with it just fine. But nothing short of not having sex with Patrick was going to solve the problem, and that was not an option on the table, so he had to find a way to make it not hurt, or at least hurt a lot less, so then Patrick would stop worrying and David would never have to explain the genetic trait he happened to carry, because it would never affect Patrick. It would be nothing but a rare but entirely inconsequential genetic condition not remotely worth speaking of again.

Ted was still looking at him. “David, I’m not sure how to help here.”

“Right.” David said, trying to figure out how to reach this end goal. “How about… what do you know about birds?”

“Lots! Just yesterday, Mr Manto’s parakeet was in with a broken wing.” Ted paused, clearly unsure why David might care. “Are you feeling okay? I could pick up Alexis, and we could drive you to Elmdale’s emergency clinic.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “Let’s say a bird has wing problem. What would you do to make sure it’s not in pain?”

“You mean the _tweetment_?” Ted asked, and David wondered, not for the first time, how his sister dealt with Ted all the time. The puns did not fade into the background at all. David would seriously have to reconsider game night.

Still, maybe he was getting somewhere here. David decided to suck it up. “Yes,” he said. “The… tweetment.” He hated himself a little as he said it.

Ted beamed. “Well, in this case, I put the wing in a splint and gave it a little sedative so it would be less likely to injure itself further. And there’s a pain medication that I gave it too. Just a drop or two and those little guys are flying pret-ty high.”

“Right.” Maybe David wasn’t getting anywhere after all. He took a deep breath and another approach. “Are there any birds that have wings that aren’t always present? Like maybe they come out when they mature or as part of a mating ritual?”

“Not any that I know of. Some insects, probably. Butterflies.”

David cringed. “I would prefer if we could not talk about butterflies.”

Shrugging good-naturedly, Ted just said, “Whatever you want, bud.”

What David wanted was to not be having any part of this conversation. Defeated, he sat down on the lone chair in the room. He considered his options and remembered Patrick’s face.

“David?”

He was desperate, and Ted was…Ted, but David didn’t know what else to do. Ignoring the screaming inside of his brain, he just…went for it before he could think about it further. “Okay, look, I’m going to tell you something that no one else knows.”

“Oookay,” Ted said slowly.

“I have a rare genetic condition.”

“Right,” said Ted. “I figured.”

“What does _that_ mean?” David felt his eyes going wide as he craned his neck back in reaction.  

Ted hurried to explain, saying, “It’s just, I’ve never seen eyebrows like your dad’s, and then you have them too, so I figured…”

“No, that’s. No.” David took a long fortifying breath. He stared at the poster of cute bunnies sitting in a field of yellow flowers that Ted had hanging on the far wall as he said, “I have a condition. It’s extremely rare. I have a pair of vestigial limbs. They affect the musculature of my back. Sometimes it’s painful.” Cautiously, he glanced at Ted.

“Okay,” said Ted, just looking at him pleasantly.

“They’re wings,” David explained.

Ted paused. “Wings,” he said eventually. “You have vestigial _wings._ But mammals never had—”

“No.”

“So _technically_ they can’t be—Right,” he said, seeing David’s face. “It really doesn’t matter. You have…wings.” Ted was back to looking at him.

“Sometimes,” David said quickly. “Rarely.”

“Huh. If it runs in the family, does that mean Alexis has…? I mean, of course she doesn’t. I would have noticed wings, obviously.”

“You’d be surprised,” David said dryly. “But no. And she doesn’t know about my…condition.”

“Oh.”

“I’d _strongly_ prefer that you not tell her. Doctor-patient privilege and all.”

“I’m not that kind of doctor, you know.”

“Please,” David said. “Work with me.”

Ted nodded. “Well, David, I must say, that’s quite a _bird_ en you’ve got there.”

“Mmmhmm. Too soon, Ted.”

“Fair enough. So what, they hurt? Can I see them?”

“No. They’re in my back. They’re…large. I don’t know how they fit. No one knows how.” He didn’t like to think about it. “Sometimes they want to come out, but I can control it, so I don’t let them, for obvious reasons, but it hurts to do that.”

“Right.”

He fidgeted. “So I want to know what to do so it doesn’t hurt as much when I keep my wings from showing.”

“Oh,” Ted said, and somehow taking the situation in stride, he asked, “Have you tried icing the area when you feel it starting to happen?”

“I don’t think that would be possible.” David paused, confused by Ted’s nonreaction. He’d said they were wings, right? What else did he need to say? “They’re longer than my arms—they smash into things, and I don’t fit into clothes or small rooms, and they’re fucking wings, Ted.”

Ted seemed to completely ignore this additional information. “Can you make them come out now? I can watch your back to see what happens. Maybe I could give you better suggestions.”

“No,” David said. “Really, really no.”

“Why not? I see wings all the time; I promise. Occupational hazard.”

“It’s…complicated.”

Ted looked doubtful. “Okay. And then what? You just…fold them back up again?”

“They do it on their own. Usually while I’m sleeping.”

Ted frowned, and David was hopeful that meant he was finally starting to realize what a terrible and mortifying problem this was. Then he realized, that while none of the extremely well-paid doctors he’d seen had been willing to just…get rid of them for him, maybe Ted would. He’d have to get himself to orgasm in front of Ted, which would be a significant hurdle, but maybe if Ted didn’t make any terrible jokes, he could for the sake of the surgical removal. Ted had probably done weirder things and could certainly get his hands on some anesthesia. That would cure him for good, getting rid of the wings altogether. He was considering how to best pose this request when Ted interrupted his thoughts.

“So what you’re saying is you have giant wings, but only sometimes, and no one else knows, and you can control when they come out, but you can’t show them to me, and somehow they fit into your back the rest of the time.” Ted paused. “David, is there a chance you’ve been drinking that body milk you sell? Because Patrick told me it’s not for human consumption, and honestly, this is all sounding a little…” Ted stopped when he saw David’s face contort.

David closed his eyes and tried to return his features to their normal resting state. When he felt ready, he opened them and continued. “The only one who knows is my mom. And they only come out when I’m being intimate.” When he realized what he had inadvertently implied, he added, flapping his hands a little. “Those two facts are _extremely_ unrelated. My mother knows because the trait is from her side of the family. And no, she doesn’t have it herself.”

“Ah,” Ted said. “I wondered why she has all those bird-print pantsuits.”

“That’s not why,” David said, still grouchy because of the body milk. “That’s _not_ why. And some are skirts.”

“Well, I can see not wanting wings in public, because it would be weird—?” He glanced at David, who gave him a _look_ , because _obviously,_ it would be weird. “But if they’re only out when you’re… um… intimately engaged, I kind of fail to see the problem? I mean, you can presumably take off those expensive sweaters you always wear, since I guess they’d probably be damaged, but you’d be in private anyway. No one would know.”

“Someone would know,” David said. “ _Patrick._ Patrick would know.”

“Patrick doesn’t know?”

“No. No one knows.”

“I thought you said your mom knows. And technically, now I know too.”

David ignored him. “Patrick doesn’t need to know the exact details. I can’t let him see.” He dragged in a breath. “I’m not going to let them just out like I’m some kind of _animal_. No offense.”

“None taken,” Ted said, and David knew that Ted would never ever help him get rid of the wings.

Out of steam, David just said, “Look. Patrick knows something hurts, so I’m trying to find a way to make it hurt less when I do what I need to do to keep them controlled.”

“And you came to me.”

David just looked at him. “I know. It was stupid. No one can help with this. But I said I would at least ask, so here I am.”

Ted thought for a few moments. “Well, there’s nothing that I have ever read about that would inhibit wing growth or appearance. I mean, if you change your mind and want to let them out, I can definitely show you how to care for them. Washing and fluffing, and…do you molt? Because molting can be tricky. But I could probably give you some tips on—”

“I do not _molt.”_

“That’s good,” Ted said. “Because everyone always gets super grumpy.”

“Everyone.”

“Well, birds,” Ted clarified.

“Great,” David said, and stood up. “This was as pointless as I expected.”

“Wait,” Ted said. “You could try taking something over the counter in advance. Maybe some kind of muscle relaxant—”

“Okay, that’s actually the last thing I would need.”

“Tylenol then. Or you could try something that you can put on your back in advance. Like a Glucosamine gel or some cream with arnica in it.”

This, at least, was slightly more helpful. “We do sell a lotion in the store that contains arnica,” he said. “I guess it could be worth a shot.”

“There you go. That’s the spirit.” Ted smiled at him. “Is that all? Because I was supposed to pick up Alexis fifteen minutes ago for dinner.” He looked unsubtly at the door.

“Oh, she’s always at least a half hour late. You’re fine.”

“Factored that in already, actually.” Ted smiled pleasantly at him.

“Okay. Well, thanks, I guess. For not being weird about this. And remember, you can’t tell anyone.” David opened the door to the exam room and headed back out through the darkened waiting room. He had to get going to meet Patrick for dinner anyway.

“I’m used to it. I have seen some cra-zy things. Just the other day I had to pull a green crayon out of a—you know what? Never mind. Besides, I think it’s actually kind of cool.”

“It’s not cool. It’s _not_ cool, Ted. Nothing about this is cool.” Grimacing, David hurried toward the door that would take him out of the clinic. He paused when he reached it, though, and looked back at Ted who was closing up. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Ted grinned. “I’m at least sixty percent sure you’re not hallucinating. Maybe sixty-five.”

It was reasonable under the circumstances.

 

*********

 

David went back to the Apothecary to meet Patrick after he left the vet clinic. He found the storefront darkened, with only a small light coming from the back room. Patrick must have been at the small workspace he’d set up back there. Letting himself in with his key, David found himself standing in the dim light, looking around at everything he and Patrick had created together. Not for the first time, he was really proud.

“Hey.” Patrick popped out from the back room and smiled. 

“Hi.” David’s smile tugged at the side of his mouth in return.

Patrick flicked off the back room light switch. “Should we get dinner? Café?”

“Where else?” David said, as Patrick came around the till to join him at the front of the store. He folded Patrick up in his arms.

Patrick kissed him lightly.

“No, but I mean it,” David said. “Where else? Literally, is there anywhere else?”

Patrick chuckled and jingled the keys to the shop in his hand. “I’m sure if you ask nicely, Twyla will make you big bowl of room-temperature hollandaise sauce.”

“I should never have told you about that. Let me just grab something, and then we can go.” He retrieved a small container of the cream they sold that contained arnica from a display near the back and tucked it into his bag.

Patrick raised an eyebrow, but David had tried most of the products at one point or another, so Patrick had grown used to him occasionally pilfering from their stock. David would explain later.

He headed back up to the front of the shop where Patrick waited with his keys to lock up. Pausing only to straighten the black bird statue on the display beside the soaps, he let Patrick lead the way out.

Once they’d settled in and decided to split a pizza, Patrick shifted a little in his seat before asking, “So, you talked to Ted? How did it go?”

“Yes,” David said. “I did.” He paused briefly as Twyla delivered their beverages. He continued, “Ted had a few small suggestions for managing the pain because it’s chronic, but that’s about it.” He picked up his water and took a sip. “I guess one or two might be worth a shot,” he added as he placed the cheap diner glass back on the table.

“Well that’s good, right?” Patrick said. “Aren’t you glad you went?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” David said. “But one of his suggestions was arnica gel, so I grabbed a small bottle of the lotion we carry with arnica in it just now. It can’t hurt to try.” Actually, it would probably very much hurt David to try, but not any worse than usual.

“Did, uh, did Ted suggest getting it checked out further? Just to rule out other issues, just in case?”

“It was never a matter of not knowing what the problem was. It’s chronic, and I’ve had it since I was a teenager. And I thought we agreed no looking at WebMD without a partner.”

“That rule was for you, so you could sleep at night,” Patrick protested.

Seeing Twyla approach with their pizza and some plates, David sat back in his chair to give her space to set everything down. Once they thanked her and she had left again, he said, “Well from now on, it explicitly applies to both of us.”

“Fair enough,” Patrick said, looking a tad chagrined as he handed David his plate.

“Now are you hungry? Because I am hungry.” The pizza was piping hot between them, and it smelled divine. He helped himself to a large slice.

“Famished.” Patrick also took a slice.

“Hot,” David said, digging in and finding the cheese was very close to burning the roof of his mouth. He breathed in quickly, trying to cool the mouthful. He fanned his hand in front of his mouth. “So hot.”

Patrick handed him his Coke. “Every single time.”

*********

 

The next day was Saturday, and Patrick had taken off work for baseball practice, _Cabaret_ rehearsal, and to try to figure out their business taxes after recently attending a tax seminar, so David watched the shop alone. The day passed quickly, as customer traffic was generally heavier on weekends, and the steady flow kept him almost too busy. In the rare downtime he had, he looked at the next month’s calendar to see if there were nights free for local groups who wanted to meet in the Apothecary on Wednesday and Thursday evenings, when they sometimes stayed open late. They were almost all filled up, but he made sure to find a night for a wellness gathering requested by a small Elmdale group that was led by his favorite veggie supplier.

He stopped by the motel after work, found it mercifully empty of family members, which allowed him to take an extremely thorough shower, change, and then be on his way again without any issue. He was off to Patrick’s apartment for dinner. He brought a bottle of wine from the Apothecary with him since it sounded like Patrick was planning on making something complicated involving chicken, and even if he wasn’t, wine went with everything.

When he arrived, he let himself in and found Patrick deep in concentration over a thick stack of forms, his laptop open with a complicated Excel spreadsheet on the screen and an actual physical calculator right at his fingertips. David had assumed calculators had become all but obsolete thanks to smartphones, but Patrick must have brought one with him to Schitt’s Creek. Of course he had. It probably had one of those ancient label-maker stickers with Patrick’s name in raised letters on the back.

Patrick looked up when he entered, then glanced at the clock on his phone and blinked. “Oh man, I didn’t realize what time it was,” he said, as David came over and pressed a quick kiss against the side of his forehead. “I meant to make something nice for us for dinner. My mom gave me a recipe.” He frowned and stood up from the table where he’d spread out to work. “How hungry are you? If you don’t mind waiting an hour or so for it to bake, I can still make it.”

“Actually, I’m pretty famished,” David said. “Can we just improvise?” At the look on Patrick’s face, he found himself making a very strange offer. “What if I figure out something for us to eat, and you can wrap up whatever you were working on. We can save your mom’s recipe for tomorrow.”

“You can cook?” Patrick’s disbelief was reasonable, but at least he was no longer visibly upset at the thought of having to discard his plans and ad-lib a quick dinner.

“Um, no. But I’ve developed a trick or two over the years to get by.”

Patrick still looked doubtful, but in the end, he agreed, falling back into his calculations and forms until David finished his preparations and shooed him from the small table so they could eat. Proudly, he set a plate of four peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches—cut into quarter triangles and stacked artfully—on the table as Patrick finished clearing away his paperwork. He then poured them each a glass of red wine, folded two paper towels into napkins, and found two clean plates to complete the table setting.

“Wow, David,” Patrick said when he returned. “Look at this!” David tried to tell if he was joking, but Patrick seemed to be honestly pleased by his efforts, so David had to struggle not to smile at his success. He even pulled out Patrick’s chair and pushed it back in after he sat down, before finally seating himself.  

Patrick helped himself to a few of the little triangles then lifted his glass of wine once David had taken a few mini-sandwiches as well. Clinking glasses, Patrick smiled warmly at him, and they each took a sip of the wine, which was really quite good. Setting the glass down, David took a bite of one of his little sandwiches.

“That,” he said after he managed to swallow and run his tongue over his teeth several times, “is a _lot_ of peanut butter.”

“Yes,” Patrick agreed, his jaw working to clear his own mouth and making little sucking noises while pulling his cheeks in.

David took another bite, and that seemed to have even more peanut butter than the first. Patrick was dutifully, if slowly, making his way through his own little triangle.

“Should I get us some knives? Maybe we can scrape some off?”

“Great idea,” Patrick agreed. “I’ll get them.” When he returned with the knives, they set about deconstructing their sandwiches, scraping off some of the excess peanut butter, and smushing them back together. They were a sticky mess by the end of it, and peanut butter seemed to be everywhere—on their wine glasses and Patrick’s sleeve, and David’s rings were definitely going to need some cleaning—but they were smiling, and the wine had warmed David’s belly and reddened Patrick’s cheeks.  

“I gotta say, David, that wasn’t too bad!” Patrick said as he continued his futile attempt to clean his hands with the rest of his paper towel napkin. Giving up, he stood and grabbed their plates and dropped them off in the sink.

“Don’t tell anyone. Twyla will want me to come work in the café.”

“I heard they were looking for a new PB&J chef.”

Patrick turned on the sink water and began to wash his hands. Joining him at the sink, David leaned down so Patrick could give him a peanut-buttery kiss. He lathered up his own hands as Patrick finished rinsing.

“Thank you,” Patrick said genuinely. “That was nice. Dinner, I mean.” He handed David a towel to dry his hands.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never cooked a day in my life,” David said warmly, putting the towel back on the counter and turning to rest his arms on Patrick’s shoulders, his wrists crossed behind Patrick’s head. Patrick immediately pulled him close, his hands finding David’s back.

It was really nice until— “Shit,” David said. “There was peanut butter on your sleeve.”

Patrick released him. “What? Where? Oh, there. You’re right. Here, I can take it off.” He peeled off the long-sleeved tee he was wearing, which left him shirtless, but for once this barely even registered for David.

“No, it’s…” He craned his head down to look at his sides, then spun around, his back to Patrick. “Did any get on my sweater just now? Can you look?”

“Um.”

“Oh god, don’t say it.”

“It’s just a little smear,” Patrick said.

“Fuck. Okay, nobody panic,” David said, turning back around.

“We can wash it,” Patrick offered as he went to toss his own shirt in his semi-full laundry basket. “Give it here, I’ll start a load now.”

“Wash it? She’s cashmere!” David’s voice was very high in pitch and rather louder than normal, but Patrick recovered quickly.

“Okay, then why don’t you take it off, and I’ll Google what to do,” Patrick suggested.

David nodded slowly. He tried to remember the breathing exercises his therapist had taught him. “Right. Okay.” Very gingerly, he began to take off the sweater, its future suddenly in very real jeopardy. “Okay, done. What does it say?” he asked, when he finally had it off and was down to his undershirt, the offending spot identified and held so as not to infect the rest of the delicate wool.

“It actually doesn’t sound too hard. Just a spot clean with water and some dish soap because of the oil.”

“Water?” David gasped. “Dish soap! No. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

Patrick shrugged. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh god, I can’t watch.”

“That’s all right; I got it.” Patrick was smiling to himself as he carefully took the sweater from David.

“Okay, just…tell me when it’s over,” David said, and went to sit on the couch so he wouldn’t have to witness the imminent disaster. He tried not to think about what was happening, but that rapidly became boring, so he pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the latest season of _Queer Eye_ on Netflix. He hadn’t watched the third season yet.

David tried to focus on JVN and Tan and the rest of the Fab Five as they visited their next Kansas City location, and it soon held his interest nearly enough to forget about his second favorite Givenchy, at least until he heard the sink faucet turn on and nearly sobbed aloud.

Some minutes later, Patrick came over and put a hand on his shoulder. “The procedure went well. She just woke up. Would you like to see her?”

Immediately putting Antoni on pause, David got up. “Where is she?”

“Right here.” Patrick led him to the foot of the bed, where his sweater lay carefully spread out on Patrick’s comforter. It looked…good. David felt hope creep into his chest, and he delicately lifted up the area in question. A small section was just the slightest bit damp, but it was otherwise as good as new. He looked up in astonishment. “You got peanut butter out of cashmere.”

“Looks okay?”

“Yes!” David dropped the sweater and kissed Patrick fiercely. “It’s perfect.” He examined it again. “You got peanut butter out of cashmere for me,” he said again, his voice filled with wonder.

Patrick smiled and nodded as he released David again. “Do you want to put it back on? Or did you bring something else to change into?” Patrick asked, as though he wasn’t still wandering around shirtless himself.

“I think she’s had enough excitement for one day,” he said, petting his sweater. “Though I didn’t actually bring a anything else, so I might have to. We forgot to talk about if I should stay over.”

“David, I basically always want you to stay over.” Patrick looked so earnest sometimes that it physically hurt. Probably because David knew he was inevitably going to fuck something up and let him down.

“Really?” David asked. “Because I can be very—”

“I stand by my offer. Stay.”

“Hmm, well then, fortunately, you can have me whenever you like,” David said, his mouth curling up at the corner without permission.

“You should probably leave some things here too, just in case.”

“Okay, that’s sweet, but you _really_ don’t have the closet space to back that up.”

“I’ll make some room,” Patrick promised. 

“Well,” David said. “Given that I don’t know anyone else who can perform cashmere miracles, I suppose it would be safe to keep a few things here.”

“Good.” Patrick said. “C’mere.”

Patrick kissed him, then, and David kissed him back, holding him tight, because Patrick, the Cashmere Whisperer, was everything he never dreamed he’d have.

“I have an idea,” Patrick said, his eyes warm. “Since you probably want to let your sweater dry before putting it back on, we could try that special lotion you picked up the other night from the shop. You forgot it here.”

“Mmmm. That sounds very nice,” David said, not feeling the need to confess he’d left it behind intentionally. Odds were simply much better that they’d use it at Patrick’s. They almost never did anything beyond kiss at the motel; there were always way too many people around, not to mention room locks of questionable efficacy.

“I’ll go get it,” Patrick volunteered, slipping from David’s arms.

“Wait,” David said. “Let’s not tempt fate twice in one evening.” He carefully picked up his sweater and folded it such that the still-damp spot was face up. He then placed it carefully out of reach on one of Patrick’s shelf cubes. Satisfied, he told Patrick, “Now you can get it.”

Shaking his head a little but still smiling, Patrick went to retrieve the little bottle.

“Help me put it on?” David asked, when Patrick returned.

“Sit on the bed.”

David did, and Patrick crawled around behind him. He helped pull David’s undershirt up over his head and set it aside, dragging his teeth lightly along the back of David’s shoulders and neck as they were bared.

David heard the soft pop of the lotion’s lid opening. David felt his neck loosen, and his head fell forward. Even if the arnica had no effect, it was always nice to get a back rub. Patrick had compact but knowing hands.

“This might be a little cold,” Patrick warned, but David jumped anyway when the cool lotion first touched his skin.

“Higher,” David said, as Patrick began to rub it into his back. “Between my shoulder blades.”

Adjusting accordingly, Patrick applied the lotion to David’s upper back, rubbing it in so it wasn’t as cold, though it continued to tingle. When Patrick seemed satisfied, he used the remaining lotion on his hands to rub David’s shoulders and neck, and David felt his head drooping even further as his muscles relaxed under Patrick’s fingertips and the lotion’s soft scent.

“Thank you,” David said eventually, as Patrick sat back and leaned over to set the bottle on his nightstand.

“I hope it helps,” Patrick said.

David turned toward him, and Patrick came forward to kiss him hungrily, his hand curled possessively on the back of David’s neck. His other hand wandered over David’s chest, as his tongue found David’s.

“Me too,” David said.

“Well, I’m tired. Should we go to bed?” Patrick said, sitting back.

David’s mouth opened in surprise and he blinked twice before he realized Patrick was kidding. “Really, Patrick?”

Instead of answering, Patrick just smiled as he kissed him on the cheek, but instead of letting David escape, Patrick pulled him down on the bed with him, so they were lying in something of a heap.

“Hot,” David said as he extricated himself. He’d landed hard on top of Patrick, who had suddenly seemed to have more than his fair share of elbows and knees. “Hot, sexy, sex,” he added, since it seemed like Patrick had ended up with David’s hair in his mouth.

Patrick just snorted softly and turned so they were lying side by side, facing each other. He propped his head up with one arm and ran his finger over the front of David’s chest with the other. David kissed him, mostly so Patrick would stop studying him.  

Patrick scooted in closer and twisted their legs together as they made out, first on their sides, but when that no longer allowed for enough movement, David rolled onto his back and pulled Patrick on top of him.

“You’re so fucking hot, David,” Patrick said, dropping his head down and putting his open mouth on David’s neck, and shoulder, and upper chest. He paused to trace David’s jaw. “So hot. Hot sexy sex,” he added, somehow staying straight-faced as he mimicked David.

David lapped it up. “But how hot exactly? What are we talking here?” His hands found Patrick’s ass as Patrick continued to taste his skin. He’d moved up to mouth David’s jaw and kiss behind his ear, as his hand came to a rest over David’s nipple. Patrick’s kisses grew rougher and more urgent. “Are we talking Matt Bomer on a desert island making pancakes? Or more Zachary Quinto on a desert island baking fresh bread? Or Chadwick Boseman?”

“What’s Boseman making?” Patrick asked, pausing to look at David.

David shrugged. “Does it matter? He’s Chadwick Boseman.”

“Point,” Patrick agreed. “But you’re really goddamn sexy. Definitely hotter than any of that.” Patrick said.

“Fuck,” David said.

“I know.” Patrick’s voice was low and his eyes dark. His lips parted, breath heavy, he looked down over David’s skin and back up to meet David’s eyes. "Let me," Patrick said. "Let me—I want…” He licked his lips.

“Whatever you want,” David said, wanting everything. “We can do whatever you want,” he added, in case that wasn’t clear. He took Patrick’s hand and put it over his dick, so Patrick could feel how hard he’d already gotten through his pants. Patrick rubbed his palm over the length of him. Reaching his head up to kiss Patrick again, David dragged his teeth against Patrick’s lips, reddened and wet from kissing.

David groaned as Patrick broke the kiss, but then Patrick asked, his voice thick, “I want—Can I fuck you?” He’d pulled his mouth back just enough to ask the question, breathing in David’s quick exhale.

“Yes, holy fuck, yes.” David said, and Patrick’s mouth is on his, insistent, hard, and hungry. David let him, because Patrick could always have him, if he wanted it. “Patrick,” David breathed, as Patrick’s hand found his thigh. His heart was pounding in his chest; he could feel his blood rushing through his body. He was so fucking turned on by Patrick; it was wild. “Please.”

With a groan, Patrick rolled off of him, got to his knees and quickly opened his jeans, rather ungracefully yanking them down along with his briefs and tossing them aside. On his stomach, he leaned across the bed to rifle through his nightstand, but the items were on David’s side, and he wasn’t close enough to look in that one to see what he was after. “I got it,” David said, pressing a kiss on the back of Patrick’s head and awkwardly scooching down to the end of the bed, undoing his own pants and slipping out of them when he got there. He batted Patrick’s hand away from the little drawer and grabbed the lube and a condom and dropped them on the bed. He was about to take off his underwear and rejoin Patrick on the bed when he felt Patrick hook a finger inside the top edge of his briefs.

“Let me,” Patrick said. “Where do you even get underwear like this. So fucking hot.”

After glancing down to see which pair he was wearing, David replied smugly, “Santa.”

“I thought you were Jewish.”

“Half, but one December I dated someone who actually thought he was Santa Claus. He gave the nicest gifts, even if I was always on the naughty list.”

Patrick released his underwear with a snap. “Well, that kinda kills it, not gonna lie.”

“Oh, sweetie, no.” David leaned down to kiss him. “It barely lasted through Hanukah. He said he had to get back to the North Pole and other than a postcard from Svalbard, I never heard from him again. Which was fine. I didn’t honestly love that much facial hair.”

Patrick looked somewhat mollified. “And what else do you have from this Santa?”

Thinking for a moment, David said, “Well there was this one gorgeous pair of black boots. And supposedly there’s a reindeer named after me somewhere in Norway?”

His face softening, Patrick asked, “So what did you do to get on the naughty list?”

David rejoined Patrick on the bed. “I don’t think we have enough time for that tonight. But if you scooch over, I’ll show you how good I can be.”

“Do you think he works at Christmas World in Elmdale?” Patrick asked as he rolled onto his back, and David settled in next to him on his side.

David trailed his hand down Patrick’s chest, flattening it once he reached Patrick’s stomach. “I don’t think about him at all, actually,” David said, and then continued sliding his hand down near Patrick’s hard-on, but he didn’t touch it, instead gliding his fingers over Patrick’s pale skin until it rested on Patrick’s thigh.

Patrick shuddered. “Right answer.”

“Chilly?” David asked.

“No, I’m good. Really, really good.” Patrick’s chuckle was a little breathless. “I’m not sure why after that story, but I think I love you, David Rose,” Patrick said, not for the first time. He was looking at David like he was some sort of priceless treasure, seeing value in him beyond what David could reasonably understand.

He brought his hand back up and placed it on Patrick’s chest, feeling his heart beating steadily below his fingers until Patrick stirred, resettling himself between David’s legs. He ran his hand up David’s thigh, scratching lightly, teasingly, with his nails as he drew it back down. “Hot like David Rose in Schitt’s Creek using an entire jar of peanut butter to make me dinner.”

“It wasn’t the whole jar,” David protested.

“Mmm, not the point, David,” Patrick said, continuing to do the light scratching thing. It made David’s skin come alive. He traced the lines of Patrick’s body with his eyes, down from his hips to where his cock stood, long and thick between them.

His mouth watered. “Maybe I could just suck you a bit first,” David suggested, reaching for Patrick’s cock.

“Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s probably not a good idea if you want this to last very long at all,” Patrick said.

“Next time.”

Patrick began to pull David’s underwear partway down his thighs, watching intently as he did it. When David’s aching erection finally slipped free from the black material, Patrick made this soft needy sound that was probably the hottest thing David had ever heard. He felt himself twitch as the sound curled through his body.

Finally tearing his gaze away, Patrick told him, “If you can think about next time right now, I must be doing something wrong,” as he took David in his hand and kissed the head of his cock.

Groaning, David tried to resist the urge to lift his hips. “Here,” he said, grabbing the lube from over his shoulder and handing it to Patrick, who helped slip David’s underwear the rest of the way off, and then added some lube to his palm to warm it before reaching for David’s dick once more.

Patrick stroked him a few times until David was practically turning inside out with need.

“Do you want me to…?” Patrick asked, his other hand drifting down below David’s balls. He slid a finger down further, and even dry, it made David moan when Patrick touched him.  

“Unless you want to watch me do it.”

Looking momentarily torn, eventually Patrick said, “No, I got it,” and reached for the lube again. “Spread your legs more,” he said as he opened it. “Or maybe turn over.”

David opted for the latter and got up to turn around. Dropping his cheek against the cool pillow and closing his eyes, he waited for Patrick to settle between his knees again, then he lifted his hips a little, trying to ignore the intense feeling of vulnerability that came with it. 

“Fuck you’re hot,” Patrick whispered, and he ran the flat of his hand down over the cleft of David’s ass. Then he used just a single finger to do the same. He brushed David’s hole lightly. “Okay?”

David let out a harsh breath. “Yes. Yup. Yes.” He grasped at the blankets below him as he felt Patrick press a slick finger inside of him. “God, yes.”

Patrick began to move his finger, and even that was enough to remind David how much he loved getting fucked. It had been a little while, because sometimes when Patrick remembered he liked something, he wanted to do it again and again, so the last few times they’d done this, Patrick had been on the receiving end.

Carefully adding a second finger, Patrick ran his other hand down David’s lower back, and David found himself pushing back a little, wanting more.

Patrick gave a low chuckle and continued to open him up. Eventually he withdrew his fingers, adding more lube to David’s hole with his thumb, and then finally took his hands away altogether after giving his cheek a playful slap. David peered over his shoulder and saw that Patrick had sat back and grabbed the condom David had got out for them earlier, though he kept one hand on David’s thigh as much as possible. Content, David rested his cheek back against the pillow just as he heard the condom wrapper being opened. A few seconds later, the sound of the lube container snapping closed and falling to the bed followed. The bed shifted, and Patrick put his fingers back inside of David, slick and messy.

David made an anguished sort of sound as Patrick fucked him with two of his fingers. “Look at how wet you are,” Patrick said, adding another finger. David was nearly shaking with need by that point.

“It’s good,” David said breathlessly. “I’m good.” At that point, he really wanted Patrick to be inside him, fucking him, filling him physically to the breaking point. “I’m ready; please, put it in me,” he half-begged.

Patrick groaned loudly but removed his fingers and started slipping his cock along David’s ass, teasing, before he finally held David’s hip with one hand and guided the head of his cock to David’s hole. The gentle pressure quickly grew more forceful. “Breathe, David,” Patrick said, and David breathed out a long shuddering breath as his body gave way. He sucked in air again as he felt the slow slide of Patrick entering him, filling him perfectly, stretching him from the inside.

“Holy fuck,” David hissed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He shifted, and in doing so, Patrick slid in farther. He gasped. “Holy fucking fuck.”

“Oh my god, David,” Patrick said, sounding strained. “I’m trying not to move.” He ran his thumb around the outside of David’s hole, and David clenched down, making them both moan.

David breathed in and out. “You can move a little,” David said, because it was painful but also exactly what he’d wanted. Soon, Patrick began to move more, pressing in little by little until he pressed hard and was all the way inside of David, buried deep, and David was so full he thought he might break in two. And then Patrick started to move his hips more intentionally, beginning to thrust inside of David, and David couldn’t think anymore, because he was lost in the pleasure of it all, the rock of Patrick’s hips, the way his own blood felt hot, rushing past his ears.

Slowing momentarily, Patrick resituated himself to be able to better lean over David’s body. His hips moved unevenly as he dropped a kiss along David’s spine, but the change in angle was very good for David, and he whined with need as Patrick curled his body over David’s and fucked him with long, slow strokes. David was lost in it. Lost in what Patrick was doing to his body. Lost in Patrick.

“Please,” he croaked. “Patrick.”

It had never, ever been like this before Patrick. Never.

Patrick moved his hand up David’s side and over his back, the back of his shoulders, and down between his shoulder blades, where not long before Patrick had carefully applied the arnica, because he really cared about David.

It had never been this way before Patrick.

David spared a thought to hope that the arnica lotion was would help, because otherwise… David didn’t want to think about it. Besides, it was worth it—it was always worth it and would always be worth it—to be with Patrick. It was only that the more intimate they became…

David didn’t want to think about it.

Putting his arm back to still Patrick, David shifted his weight to his knees and lifted his torso upright, so Patrick was behind him on his knees. Patrick wrapped his arms around David’s torso, pulling him back against his own, and thrust up into David as their body’s moved together, touching just for the sake of touching, and David turned his head enough to watch Patrick place open-mouth kisses along his shoulders and the crook of his neck, and eventually along his ear and the side of his jaw. David couldn’t think of anything then.

David began to stroke himself as Patrick fucked up into him. He’d softened a little at first, but he’d gotten incredibly hard again, leaking—holy fuck, how did Patrick always make him drip so much—and aching to be touched. Patrick slid a hand down to help, but the angle was awkward.

“Do you want to lay down?” Patrick asked, his hips slowing deliciously.

David shuddered at the agonizingly slow slide of Patrick inside of him. Shuddering, he tried to nod but could only manage a shuddered breath.

Pulling out entirely, Patrick waited until David got settled comfortably on his back. David spread his legs obscenely, and Patrick sucked in a harsh breath, his gaze hot as it followed the lines of David’s body as he let the air back out slowly.

“Patrick,” David whined.

“Yes, right.” Patrick ran his hand over David’s calf, and then again over his hip as he settled between his thighs, canting David’s hips up slightly. He kissed the top of David’s knee and then aligned their bodies. When Patrick had carefully entered him again, David reached up, and Patrick easily leaned forward to be close. Patrick was as deep inside of him as he could be, and David still wanted more of him. He couldn’t ever get enough. Putting his hands on either side of Patrick’s face, he said, “Kiss me,” and Patrick did, kissing him lazily as he continued to slowly move his hips, pressing deep inside of David. Patrick then began to stroke David’s cock as they made out and fucked, and the overwhelming combination of sensations had David moaning steadily into Patrick’s mouth, pinned as he was between Patrick’s hand and Patrick’s dick. Completely overwhelmed, he said Patrick’s name again and again as Patrick kissed and sucked the sensitive skin at his neck, his hand still moving over David’s cock while his own cock filled David so beautifully.

After finding David’s mouth for a final desperate kiss, Patrick sat back and began to fuck him in earnest, releasing David’s dick so he could better support his hips. Taking himself in hand, David jerked himself off as Patrick fucked into him. He did it hard, just like David liked it, and it was so good, so fucking overwhelmingly good, and all David could do was hold on and let Patrick take him.

Patrick was panting as he thrust into David. “I’m close, David. I’m close,” Patrick said, his voice hoarse.

“Christ, you feel good,” David said, the words catching against his throat. “You feel so good,” he gasped out. David was right there with Patrick; he could feel the deep ache starting in his back between his shoulders. It grew rapidly in intensity, and David could already tell that the arnica wasn’t going to help in the least.

“I want you to watch you come,” Patrick said then, and suddenly David’s back felt like it was on fire, just as it always did when he tried to prevent his body from achieving its full release. He clenched the muscles in his back in preparation, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out very much longer even if he wanted to.

“Fuck,” David gasped out as the flames licked at his back. Pinching his eyes shut, he turned his head away, because it was a fraction easier that way, and everything had been so incredibly intense that it was going to be really, _really_ bad—

“No, I mean, I want to see your face. Please.” Patrick sounded desperate. He entwined his hand with David’s free one and pulled it up to his chest. “I want to see it when you come. Your eyes. You always—please don’t look away from me.”

A needy sound came from David’s throat, and that’s when he knew the pain was going to be excruciating, because he wouldn’t say no to Patrick, he couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Not about this. Turning back and opening his eyes again, he watched as Patrick began kissing David’s knuckles. His rings. He was looking at David over the top of their hands.  

“Okay,” David gasped, holding Patrick’s gaze as requested. “Just…Fuck me. Hard. Please just…hard.”

Patrick did, and David spiraled higher, and then Patrick gasped out his name as he started shaking and coming, thrusting deep—fuck, so deep—into him, his hips surging forward. A few more quick strokes of his cock, and right at his heels, David was coming too, his back arching as he clamped down around Patrick’s cock.

Agony tore through him, and he felt Patrick freeze in confusion as he screamed, the anguish well beyond anything he’d experienced before. His hips jerked helplessly as he came unbelievably hard between them, but the pleasure was nearly lost on him altogether, as his back felt like it had been slashed open and his insides set alight. He gave in and closed his eyes as he rode out the last remaining throes of his orgasm, afraid of what he’d see when he opened them again.

Then the pain was completely gone, nothing but a memory, as it always was.

He opened his eyes, half expecting feathers. There were no feathers. No wings.

Just Patrick, staring at him in horror. “What the fuck was that?” he gasped. “What—what just happened? Jesus Christ. Are you okay?”   

David closed his eyes and started to shake. He felt Patrick wrap him up in a blanket and lay down beside him. “I’ll be fine,” he eventually said quietly. “It’s fine. Please…just hold me.”

Without another word, Patrick did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on both Twitter and Tumblr as ICMezzo. I'd love it if you said hello!


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third and final part of the story. I hope you've enjoyed it.

David’s phone alarm for work went off at eight in the morning, but Patrick, who was already up and showered, quickly came over and turned it off for him. When Patrick set it down again on the nightstand, David grabbed it and turned off his 8:10, 8:20, and 8:30 a.m. back-up alarms as well. He glanced at Patrick cautiously, but Patrick was turned away.

“I’ll go in,” Patrick said, still not looking directly at him. “You worked yesterday. Stay here and get some sleep. Text me when you wake up. Or come in when you’re ready.”

David nodded, even though Patrick wasn’t looking at him.

Patrick glanced over. “We’ll talk tonight. Go back to bed.”

“Thank you,” David croaked.

Patrick paused a beat, then headed into the kitchen area to make himself breakfast.

Exhausted deep in his bones, David pulled the blankets back over his head and tried to go back to sleep.

 

*********

 

Around lunchtime, David went back to the motel. Alexis looked up when he entered. She was using her laptop at her makeshift workspace.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his bag onto the foot of his bed and sitting down heavily.

“Hey,” she replied. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“So you and Patrick had a fight?”

He reared back. “What? No. Why would you—No.”

“Fine,” she said, “but those dark circles under your eyes tell a different story.”

“My new eye cream isn’t working for me.” He tried to school his face.

“And which one is that?”

“I don’t… it’s the new one. With the—meadowfoam seed oil.”

“Mmm, okay, but you’re lying, David. Patrick told me the other day you weren’t going to get that one in until next month.”

“Ugh, fine. I didn’t sleep much, okay?” He ignored her eye roll. “What are you working on?”

“Publicity for _Cabaret_.”  

“Fun,” he said. He took off his shoes then lay back on his bed and pulled out his phone. He thought about texting Patrick again, but they’d already agreed to meet at the café for dinner when they very briefly texted earlier.

He sighed heavily and rolled onto his back.

“Shush, David. I’m working.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You’re breathing super loudly, and it’s making me crazy.” She sat sideways in her chair to face him. “Ugh, David. Seriously. What is going on?”

“Nothing!”

“Did Patrick tell you he wanted space? Or, oh my god, David, did he suggest a sex coach too? Because that’s not good, David.”

“A _sex coach?_ ” He sat up quickly. “Absolutely not. That would be _completely_ unnecessary for us. Besides, that happened _once,_ when I was—wait, how do you even know about that?”

She shrugged. “I was dating the coach.”

“Oh my god,” David said, appalled. 

“What, David?” she said defensively. “I was bored, okay? It was only for, like, a hot minute.”

“Oh my god,” he said again.

She shrugged. “So tell me or don’t, but if you stay here, you’re going to have to stop breathing. You sound like dad.”

“What? Ew,” David said. “I do not.”

“I’m just _saying_.”

“Fine,” David said. “I’ll just stop breathing.”

“Thank you,” Alexis huffed, flipping her hair and spinning back around in her chair.

David went back to his phone for a few minutes. When he spoke again, he tried to make sure his voice was casual. “Alexis, do you tell Ted everything?”

She swiveled back to him instantly. “Oh my god, David, _yes._ Absolutely. One-hundred percent. We tell each other everything. I mean, not, like, _everything,_ but yeah, we tell each other everything. That’s, like, _super_ important. No, yeah, you have to do that.”

David looked at her. “I don’t—I don’t know what that means. You just said like four contradictory things in a row.” 

“I just mean, _David,_ that communication is, like, super important.”

“You didn’t even speak the same language as the last three of the princes you dated.”

“Well you don’t always need words, _obviously_. And besides, I started to learn Bhutanese.”

“That’s not even a language!”

“You tell that to Jigme!”

“Well, I would, except it’s not a language, so that would be very difficult.” David sighed. “I meant…maybe there’s something from your past or whatever you haven’t told Ted about?”

“Oh.” She turned back to look at him. “Obviously I don’t tell him all of that. Like this one night in São Paulo at Alabi…” She paused. “I just mean, I tell Ted everything that he needs to know.” She looked at him. “That’s really important, David. I know you haven’t been in any other real relationships, but—”

“Fuck off, Alexis.”

“M’kay, well, whatever it is, you should probably just tell Patrick.”

David furrowed his brow. “Why? You just said—”

“Honestly? Because I’m getting bored of this conversation. And because you obviously want to.” She turned back to her desk.

David groaned and flopped back on his bed.

“Does he know about the time you dated that living statue who completely froze when you took your clothes off and didn’t move again until you left?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Yes,” David said cautiously.

“Then how much worse can it be?”

“Right,” David said. “How much worse can it be.” He curled up to face the wall, pulled out his phone, and Googled the statue, briefly wondering if she was still performing.

Unfortunately, as the afternoon wore on, David’s anxiety continued to mount, and by four p.m., he was silently freaking out as he waited for Patrick to finish at work. Alexis kept turning around to glare at him, so soon after, he gave in, deciding to head over to the Apothecary and meet Patrick there instead of at the café. If he walked very slowly, he’d get there around the time when Patrick started closing up. He grabbed his wallet and sunglasses.

“You should probably just trust him, David,” Alexis said, as he went out the door.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his middle finger for her, closing the door before she could react.

When he got to the shop, it was empty of customers. He entered and flipped the sign to “Closed” even though it was five minutes early.

“I thought we were going to meet at the café later,” Patrick said, looking up as he entered.

David took off his sunglasses and tucked them away. He approached the register. “I thought this might be more private.”

Patrick looked down at the stapled printouts he’d been working on. “I guess this can wait,” he said, setting down his pencil. “Listen, David, you scared me to death.”

“I know,” he said. “I didn’t know it was going to be that bad.”

“First of all, are you all right?”

David nodded. “Yes. It’s not…yes.” He leaned back against the counter display behind him.

“Then what the hell is going on? That wasn’t a muscle cramp, was it?”

“Not really.”

“Or a muscle spasm?”

“It’s like that, but also not, exactly.”

Patrick sighed loudly and sat down on the stool behind the register. “You’re telling me an awful lot about what it’s not and not much about what it is.” He sounded exhausted.

“I know.”

“Did that lotion we used somehow make things worse?”

“No,” David said quickly. “It made no difference at all.”

“David, I love you.” Patrick’s voice cracked a little. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

Something ice cold settled in the pit of David’s stomach, numbing his insides, and spreading a chill through his veins. He studied the display in the front window, unable to look at Patrick directly. Eventually he said, “I don’t want you to look at me differently.”

Patrick came around the counter and stood in front of him, putting his hands on David’s shoulders. “I won’t. But you have to tell me what’s going on so we can figure this out.” He paused, and David looked at him, unseeing. “Please help me find a way not to hurt you when we’re together.”

David’s body had gone completely numb.

Patrick dropped his arms and looked at him. “David, please.”

David crossed his arms in front of him. Finally, feeling oddly detached, he said, “It’s genetic. It’s a genetic disorder. I’ve been to doctors. There’s nothing they can do. It just hurts sometimes, and for some reason lately it’s been getting worse. It’s always felt like a muscle cramp in my back that only lasts for a few seconds. It’s never been that bad before.”

“What’s it called?” Patrick asked. “Maybe I can look it up and we can figure out—”

“No,” David said. “You can’t just look it up. It’s very, very rare. No one has seen it in several generations. Even the doctors don’t fully understand it. The one thing I do know is it’s never going to get better, it’s just what I—it’s part of being with me.”

Leaning back against the counter, Patrick seemed to ignore this last bit. “Why does it only hurt during sex?”

“Because that’s when it’s hardest to keep my muscles controlled,” David said, listlessly, looking anywhere but at Patrick. “So now you know. It will always hurt. I’m a genetic freak.”

Patrick came forward and put his hands on David’s waist. “Um, so you’ve got a genetic condition. Who cares?” 

“I need you to listen when I say it’s not going to go away,” David said, still holding himself apart as Patrick tried to bridge between them. “You will have to trust me that I want to be with you—physically—even if it is briefly painful. It’s worth it. Always.”

Patrick frowned. “Okay, but I still don’t quite understand. It hurts for you to control your muscles—in your back?—when you have sex.”

“Yes.”

“What happens if you don’t? Does it hurt _more_?”

“Not exactly,” David said. “Not, you know, physically.”

“David—”

“Wouldn’t we all agree that emotional trauma is just as—”

“David.” Patrick folded his arms now, mirroring David, and stepped back. “What aren’t you telling me.”

“I can’t,” David said, his heart cracking. “It’s too… I can’t.”

“Too what? Embarrassing? David, I can’t imagine a genetic condition of any kind that could ever make me love you less. It’s just a part of you. And it sounds like it’s something that’s made you stronger than I ever knew.”

“Whatever you’re imagining, you’re wrong.”

“Well then you’re going to have to tell me. David, please.” He pulled David toward him, curling his hands around the back of David’s neck, making David look at him.

David found, to his horror, that his eyes had grown wet. He looked away. He couldn’t say it, and yet, with Patrick begging him, asking to see even more of him, David couldn’t hide any longer. He dropped his arms to his sides in defeat.

“I have wings,” he said, his voice low and thick with mucous.

Patrick huffed out a laugh. “David—”

“I have wings,” David said again, a little more firmly. With the words finally out of his mouth, David felt intensely vulnerable. Patrick knew everything now. David had admitted it all. There was nowhere to hide.

Patrick stopped short, and his eyes widened. He took a sharp, surprised breath. “You what?!?”

David freed himself from Patrick’s arms, turning away and crossing his arms again, rebuilding the only wall left available to him. “It’s hereditary. From my mom’s side. Vestigial wings.” He took a messy breath. “I have to tightly control the muscles in my back, or they’ll come out.” He paused then added, “It is painful but necessary.” He risked a glance at Patrick’s face, and quickly looked away again. The disbelief written there was hard to swallow, even if he expected it. “Now you know why I didn’t tell you.”

“You have wings,” Patrick said carefully. “ _Wing_ wings.”

“If I choose to let them out, yes. Which I don’t.”

He glanced at Patrick quickly to gauge his reaction, but when Patrick saw his face, he blanched and sprang into action. “Okay,” Patrick said. “Okay. David, Christ. Come here.”

David let Patrick hug him, let himself be wrapped up tightly in Patrick’s arms, let himself be held.

“Okay,” Patrick murmured. “All right. I’ve got you.”

Resting his head against Patrick, David blinked rapidly to keep his eyes from getting even more watery.

“So, wings, huh? That’s what all this is about?” Patrick said eventually, his voice noticeably lighter. He pulled back just enough to look at David. “I thought you were going to say something awful, like maybe you were colorblind or could bend your thumbs backwards.”

A broken sound emerged from David’s throat unbidden.

“All right, come here,” Patrick said, and held him again.

When David felt a little calmer, he lifted his head and cleared his throat.

“Let’s get out of here. My place?” Patrick asked.

“Yes,” David said. “But I’ll need to—”

“On it,” Patrick said, freeing an arm and crooking it to his ear. It wasn’t until Patrick started talking that David realized Patrick had already pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial. “Yes, hello? Hi. Yes, I’d like to order a medium—” Patrick paused as David coughed loudly. “—Make that a large pepperoni. With breadsticks?” He glanced at David briefly, who nodded. “Yes, breadsticks. For delivery. Patrick Brewer. Yes, that’s it. Great. Thirty minutes. Got it. Thanks. Bye.” Patrick hung up, tucked the phone in his pocket. 

David looked at him. “But you didn’t order your—”

“Eh, I thought I’d forgo the wings tonight. Wouldn’t want to upset you further.” Patrick squeezed David’s arm, then went to turn out the rest of the lights so they could get to his apartment before their dinner did. “C’mon. Let’s just get you home.”

 

*********

 

Once they had a slice or two of pizza in them, David decided to put Patrick out of his misery. He kept looking at David like he was a puzzle to be worked out. The knot in his own stomach wasn’t going away anytime soon either. “I’m assuming you have questions,” David said flatly, then took a drink of his ice water. They were sitting together on Patrick’s couch, the pizza box open on the small coffee table in front of them.

“A few,” Patrick said after swallowing a bite of breadstick.

“Well. Let’s get this over with then,” David said, mostly to himself. At some point the reality of what David was saying was going to set in for Patrick. He’d rather it happened sooner than later. He put down his drink at sat back, pizza momentarily forgotten.

“You’ve always had them? The…wings.”

“Yes. They appeared for the first time when I was thirteen.”

“Who else in your family has them?”

“No one,” David said dryly. “I’m the only one. It’s a trait from my mom’s side of the family, but it only crops up intermittently, like having twins, she says. Much more unusual than that though. It’s been several generations since someone had them. I just happen to be the lucky winner of the most grotesque lottery in existence.”

Patrick ignored his dramatics. “And they would appear now if you fully relaxed your back?”

“No.” David looked away. “They try to come out when I get off.”

Patrick looked startled at that admission but recovered quickly. “And then you…put them away again?”

David cringed. “I don’t control it, but yes, they go away after a little while.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Not physically,” David said.

“What do they look like?” Patrick asked carefully.

David stared at the pizza going cold on his plate. “They’re mostly black with some white mixed in at the edges. They’re almost as tall as I am.”

“Wow,” Patrick said. “Is it weird that I can’t wait to see them?”

“No one sees them,” David corrected firmly. “I don’t let them come out, remember?”

“But I thought…now that you told me, you could—wouldn’t it hurt less?”

“It doesn’t matter,” David said. “I don’t. Ever.”

“But—”

“Look, you wanted to know, so I told you. But that doesn’t mean I want to be a—I’m not going to let them out. They’re awful.”

“They don’t sound it. They sound kind of amazing actually. And they’re part of you.”

“How would you like it if the very the worst, most embarrassing and terrible thing about you, just…showed up, in full display, every time you came, in front of every partner?” His gestures nearly knocked his plate off his lap, so he stopped and moved it to the coffee table with the pizza box.

“Oh, David, no. I’m sorry you’re embarrassed, but I’m not every partner; I’m just me, and I would love it if you would share that part of yourself with me. I wouldn’t think they were terrible at all.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know. Besides, you make me—I like who I am when I’m with you.” He frowned. “And that me is normal and doesn’t have wings.”

“I would really like you both ways,” Patrick insisted. “They’re both you.”

“Can’t you just let me pretend to be normal?”

“It sounds more like you’re special, honestly. In a very cool way.”

“Trust me. They’re not cool in the least. I hate them so much. And I don’t want you to see me like that, like… like I’m half animal or something.”

“I would never see you that way.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t seen them.”

“So let me,” Patrick said. “I don’t want you to hurt when we’re together, especially not if the alternative is so simple.”

“Simple?!”

“What are you so afraid of?” Patrick set his own plate on the table and put his hands on David’s thighs. “You are gorgeous. Every part of you is beautiful, because it’s part of you. I would love your wings too. Frankly, the more I think about it, the more they sound really hot, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh god,” David said. “No, Patrick. No. They’re really, really not.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“Because you’ll see what a freak I am,” David said abruptly.

“David, you screamed. I saw your face. You were in agony. How can that possibly be better?”

It was, though. It was a hundred times better. David didn’t know how to explain that, though, so he took a deep breath and tried a different tactic. “What if I told you I liked it.”

“What?” Patrick asked. “The pain? During sex?”

“Yes.”

“Do you?” Patrick asked, eyes intently on his. “I know sometimes you like it a little rough. But that seems different.”

David looked down briefly at his hands. He’d never had to say it out loud. “Sometimes it feels good. Heightens everything.”

“But not every single time.”

David briefly considered fudging his response, but ultimately opted for the truth. “Not…ideally. But sometimes.”

“David, the last time, when you—when it was really bad. Did you like that?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I won’t let it get that bad again. Usually it’s easier if I close my eyes, and I have some other little tricks, and my muscles will get stronger again over time—I was out of shape before you—and that will make it easier to control. I can do it. It’s worth it. It’s always worth it to be with you. You make me feel so good. And it makes me feel good when I can make you feel good.” He stood up from the couch.

“David, I don’t know.” Patrick got up, too, and started bringing their plates and the lukewarm pizza into the kitchen. “I guess I could…” He breathed out heavily, and leaned his arm on the fridge door, resting his head on his forearm. David watched nervously, but Patrick didn’t finish his sentence.

Eventually, Patrick straightened up again. “Were you done?” He gestured toward the pizza.  

“Yes,” David said.

Patrick looked at him. “I need a break. Do you want to pick out a movie while I put dinner away?”

David found the remote, made himself comfortable again on the sofa, and scrolled through his options. Nothing seemed appealing, but eventually he settled on Kate Winslet. “How about _The Dressmaker?_ ”

“If it means I get to pick next time,” Patrick said.

David made a face at him, but ultimately agreed to the terms of the deal. Soon, Patrick joined him, settling in close to David. He opened the blanket he’d brought with him and spread it over them.

“Good?” Patrick asked.

“Good.” David tried not to let his anxiety color his tone, and quickly hit play so that the opening credits began and would distract Patrick from thinking about David’s secret any longer. Perhaps he should have chosen an action movie.

Though somewhat surprised that Patrick still wanted to be so close to him after all that he’d learned, David let Patrick settle in, tucked against him.

“David, you can put your arm around me.”

Swallowing hard, David did.

When the movie was over, David turned it off, realizing he’d effectively missed all of it and would have to watch it again. He’d found it impossible to concentrate, and his stomach continued to churn as they sat together in the quiet.   

“You’re going to stay the night, right?” Patrick asked eventually.

“If you still want me to.”

“Of course I still want you to. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m a freak.”

“David—” Patrick hesitated. “You’re not. You might have a pretty unusual trait, but that doesn’t make _you_ a freak.”

“Right.”

“How can I convince you that it doesn’t bother me?” Patrick asked, craning his neck to look at David. “That it makes you even more gorgeous and amazing to me?”

David just shook his head and looked away.

“David—” Patrick said, taking David’s hand, and raising it to his lips. “David.” Patrick kissed him again, and then leaned in to press a kiss against the side of his head, then the crook of his neck and shoulder. “David.” Patrick murmured his name again and again as he continued to kiss along David’s neck, up to his chin, his ear, and then nuzzling at his neck again. “David,” Patrick breathed. “You are right for me. All of you. Every last bit of you. Every last impossible bit of you.”

David’s stomach twisted and his lungs felt tight. “Patrick, please,” David said, though he didn’t know what he was even asking for. For Patrick to stop. For Patrick to never stop. For Patrick to never let him go. And for Patrick to let him go now because it was going to happen eventually, especially now that Patrick knew, and waiting for it to happen was torture.

Meanwhile, Patrick was still kissing his neck. David wanted to push Patrick away. He meant to push Patrick away. Instead, he sighed softly and reached for him.

Patrick angled his head up so he could kiss David’s lips. “Let me show you,” Patrick murmured between kisses. “Let me show you how gorgeous you are, how insanely attracted I am to you. God, I bet you look like a beautiful angel—”

David pushed him away.

Sitting up straight, Patrick scrubbed a hand over his face. “So, I can’t even tell you how hot I think you would look?”

“You can always tell me how hot you think I look,” David said.

“That’s not quite what I said.”

Standing up from the couch, David said, “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

Sighing, Patrick also got to his feet and began folding the blanket they’d used, setting it on the edge of the sofa. “Go ahead if you want the bathroom first,” he offered.

Thankful, David went to brush his teeth and wash his face. He took his time and tried to take deep calming breaths as he went through his nightly ablutions. Patrick’s favorable reaction to David’s wings was both unexpected and highly disconcerting.  

David opened the door so Patrick could come in and brush his teeth as soon as he finished applying his overnight face and eye creams. Leaving the bathroom to Patrick, David went to find the spare set of pyjamas he’d stashed away in Patrick’s chest of drawers. He had successfully put on his pyjama pants by the time Patrick emerged. Continuing to change, David took off his D.Gnak hoodie, and folded it carefully before reaching for his pyjama top.

“Wait,” Patrick said, coming up behind him. “Leave it.” Patrick wrapped his arms around David from behind, leaning into David. “We _will_ figure this out. But you’ve got to work with me.” He started kissing down David’s neck to the spot between his shoulder blades. Patrick kissed and tasted his skin there, and David shuddered in response to the feel of Patrick’s lips and warm breath. “I love you,” Patrick said, continuing to explore David’s upper back.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. Because you’ll do things like…like this. And say things like that.”

“I’m glad you told me. I needed you to tell me.” Patrick kissed back up David’s back to his shoulder, then turned David toward him. “We’ll figure it out,” he said again. He kissed David softly, lingeringly, and that helped, and then he pulled back, and David watched as Patrick took off his shirt.

Patrick gave him a little smile. “We may just both need to compromise a little.”

David opened his mouth to remind him that the wings were both incorrect and nonnegotiable, but Patrick was already turned away, taking off his pants. David turned out the main lights, set his alarm—he had an early delivery in the morning—and plugged in his phone to charge by the small lamp beside the bed.

Taking a t-shirt and sleeping shorts out of his dresser, Patrick paused and looked at David. “Actually…do I need these tonight?”

His mouth feeling a little dry, David shook his head. He could use the extra contact himself: Patrick, who always ran hot, sturdy and curled around him, skin on skin, real and comforting. David shucked his pyjama pants again and climbed into Patrick’s bed naked.

Patrick joined him moments later and wrapped himself around David. They lay together in silence, and David listened as some sort of night bird took up temporary residency in a tree nearby.

Trailing a finger up and down David’s back, Patrick said, “You’re so tense.”

“Wouldn’t you be? If you just told your boyfriend that you were half animal, and you were waiting for it to sink in?”

“I’m going to stop you right there. I heard what you said, and I think it makes you amazing.” Patrick sighed a little. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m so glad you that you trusted me enough to tell me. And whether you believe me or not, seriously, the more I think about it—imagine it—the hotter it seems. You must be so gorgeous. It turns me on. A lot. I just keep picturing you with them…” He tightened his arms around David, pulling him even closer. In a low voice, he said, “It’s the sexiest thing I can possibly imagine.”

“Okay, but I need you to understand—” David paused to make sure Patrick was looking at him. “They aren’t any of those things to me. I hate them. Everything about them. I never want to see them, and I never, ever want you to see them either.”

“But—”

“No,” David said. “You deserved to know your boyfriend is a… freak of nature, but I also told you so you could understand when I said that the pain is always going to be part of my life, but it is one-hundred percent worth it to be with you.” 

David heard Patrick’s breath catch, and he found himself holding his own as he waited for Patrick to say something.

Eventually, Patrick leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “All right. If that’s what you need to do, I’ll try.”

Kissing him gratefully in return, David felt, for the first time, that they might be okay after all.

David kissed him again; he closed his eyes and kissed Patrick with everything in him as they held each other in the near-darkness, letting Patrick taste the feelings he struggled to articulate as they lay tangled together, their subtle movement causing their shadows to slowly roll and swell against the far wall.

Finding comfort in Patrick’s arms, their slow kisses and soft touches felt like a healing balm, and David found himself relaxing despite himself, believing more with each kiss that Patrick still wanted him. Would still want him in the morning, and maybe even the day after that.

He traced his mouth over Patrick’s jaw; it was so easy to lose himself in Patrick’s kisses. He wanted to sink into his touch, and he reveled in the soft breathy sounds Patrick made as he kissed him again and again. Without really noticing he’d started doing it, David began to move against Patrick’s thigh.

He felt himself melt against Patrick as their gentle kisses became more heated. Noticing Patrick starting to grow hard against his hip, this undeniable confirmation that Patrick was still attracted to him warmed David further, and his own body began to respond. He pulled Patrick over him, and they began to rock against each other unhurriedly, lazily seeking friction. He arched up into Patrick, lost in the warmth of his skin, his soft groans and heated kisses. David reached for Patrick’s ass, clinging to him, Patrick’s skin growing sweat-slicked under the warm blankets as they frotted against each other.

Patrick sucked gently on David’s neck, and then he lingered over David’s nipple, licking and sucking before returning to his swollen, kiss-bitten lips, his hand continuing to tease and rake over David’s chest as he slid his tongue into David’s mouth. David moaned unreservedly and wrapped his legs around Patrick’s. He canted his hips wantonly, rubbing his cock against Patrick’s muscular thighs.

“You’re so hot, David. You’re so—I want you so much.” Patrick was saying such nice things into David’s ear, and David couldn’t stand it; he loved it so much. He reached for Patrick’s cock, and started to stroke it, helping him catch up since David was already rock hard.

“You make me so happy,” Patrick said. “I want to do this for you. I need to…” Patrick was starting to sound desperate.

“You do, you do everything for me,” David said. “You’re everything I could ever want. I want us to be right again.”

“You’re beautiful. And—you make everything around you more beautiful too, and I love you, and I’ll—I just want to—David. Kiss me, please. I need you to keep kissing me,” Patrick begged.

David did, kissed him and stroked his cock so he could get harder, yet David was the one who felt like he was drowning in it. Patrick’s words, Patrick’s touch. He was going to drown—

“You want this,” Patrick kept saying between kisses, as he watched David stroke him. “You need this. I can—Fuck—” Patrick changed positions slightly, and David lifted his hand to spit on it before reaching down to Patrick’s cock again. It would feel better if Patrick was wet.

“It feels so good,” Patrick said, at last getting a little harder in David’s hand, which was much better. “You feel so good.”

David moved so their cocks were aligned and wrapped his hand around both and began stroking them together.

“Christ, I think I could come from this,” David said, quickly realizing how incredibly turned on he was already. It wasn’t even much of an exaggeration. “You make me so hard, just having you sliding against me.”

Patrick groaned. “Oh, fuck. Wait.” He slowed his hips a little and reached between them for his cock. “I just need—”

Patrick sounded funny. Why did Patrick sound funny.

“You could make me wait—that’s so fucking hot. Or do you want me to—I could fuck you. I know how much you like that—” Words were coming out of David’s mouth unbidden. He started to feel frantic. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why.

A broken sound tore itself from Patrick’s throat, and he abruptly climbed off David and sat back on his knees between David’s legs. “I don’t—I need a second.” Patrick started jacking himself off, and David noticed Patrick had gone almost completely soft.

“Whatever you want tonight, honey,” David said, reaching for him. “Whatever you need.” Just like Patrick was doing for him, giving David what he needed—letting him pretend to be was normal. “Would you rather fuck me again? Christ, you feel so good inside me. You could make me all wet, and I could suck you off until you're begging to put it in me. I love it when you put it in me.”

Patrick wasn’t hard. He always got hard when David talked like that. “Here, let me help with that,” David offered then, ignoring the ice cold feeling that had started to spread along his spine. “Let me suck you.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “Okay.”

“I have lots of good ideas,” he teased lightly as he changed his position, laying so he could easily take Patrick in his mouth. He’d give Patrick the blow job of his life, and Patrick would forget about the slow start, and he would still be attracted to David just like he said he was, even if David was a freak.

David nuzzled the crease of his thigh by Patrick’s cock, breathing in deeply. He would suck Patrick until he begged. He reached for his cock.

“Wait,” Patrick choked out. “Stop.”

David paused, dropping his hand.

“I can’t.” Patrick looked completely defeated.

“Okay,” David said slowly.

“No.” Patrick sounded wrecked. “I mean, I can’t.”

David sat up quickly. He reached for a pillow and held it to his chest. So, it had at last sunk in for Patrick that David was basically an animal. Patrick had said he still found David attractive after he found out about the wings, but now... David had known it was too good to be true. He could feel himself starting to spiral.

But then he looked at Patrick—and instantly forgot about his own issues. Patrick looked destroyed. David looked destroyed at least three times a day, but Patrick never looked destroyed.

“David, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried. I thought I could. I told myself I could, because it’s what you wanted.” Patrick bit his lip and looked away, his face contorting in pain. “But I can’t. The closer you got to finishing, the more I kept seeing your face last time—David, I can’t watch that again. Seeing you in so much pain was agonizing; it terrified me. I never want you to hurt. It breaks my heart to think that I would be the cause of it.” He paused and took rough shaky breath.

“Right,” David said dully, realizing the pillow wasn’t enough. He reached for a blanket to cover himself as his own erection continued to flag. 

“I know in my head that it’s what you honestly want.” He looked lost. “I thought I could. I guess I could try something else. Keep trying. Or maybe I could watch you finish yourself—though honestly, I don’t even know if I could do that. It would break me. I love you too much. My heart won’t let me. I’m so, so sorry.”

It felt like Patrick’s words were bouncing right off David’s skull because it was too much—way too much—to try to let them through. “Sure, okay. Right.” David heard himself say, just words, any words, because he didn’t know what he could say that would improve the situation at all. More words would probably make it worse. “Maybe we should just…go to bed.”

“Okay,” Patrick said, and David could hear how upset Patrick was, but he’d already turned away and was in the process of laying down on his side of the bed. He straightened his pillow and untwisted the blankets, lying down with his back toward Patrick so he could hide his face. He desperately tried not to think of what had just happened.

He felt the mattress dip, indicating that Patrick had lain down as well, nothing but blankets and cool air in the miles separating them.

The lamp on Patrick’s side of the bed flicked out, leaving them in darkness.

“Good night, David,” Patrick said after a few moments had passed. He sounded awful.

“Night,” David replied into the darkness.

 

*********

 

David’s alarm went off early, and for once, he woke up without needing his second or third backup. He’d been half awake all night, tossing and turning, and he knew Patrick had struggled to sleep too. David got out of bed, showered, and tried to make himself presentable, even with the bags under his eyes.

When he emerged, Patrick looked at him from the counter, where he’d been making toast. “You’re up early. Do you want me to make some coffee?” His words bore a forced lightness.

“No, I’ll just grab some at the café. I have an early delivery.”

“Who?”

“Kimberly Caldwell is dropping some things off. From Cold Acres.”

“Ah,” Patrick said, buttering his toast. “Do you want a ride? If you give me ten minutes, I can be ready to go.”

Though it was a definite deviation from the norm for David, he could have used the fresh air and a few minutes to himself that walking would provide, but he suspected turning down Patrick would be worse. He, at least, would need to feign normalcy to get through the workday, and Patrick probably felt similarly. “Sure,” he said eventually. “Thanks.”

They made it to the Apothecary in time for David to duck out for coffee and get back for Kimberly’s arrival. A new vendor for them, she had wanted to come by to see the shop, and, after collecting the delivery boxes from her, David did his best to give her a pleasant tour despite the early hour and his generally sleepless night. He had tested several of Kimberly’s products and thought they would fit right in with their other all-natural items, and she seemed likewise pleased after he showed her around. Soon she was on her way again, and David went to cut open the first of the two boxes, which turned out to contain the household items he’d ordered. He expected that the second box would contain the rest of the items, then—the beauty and skin care products he’d selected. He set to work placing the Rose Apothecary labels, as well as discreet price tags, on the contents of the first box: soy candles, dish soap, and laundry detergent.

By the time he’d finished, the store was officially open for the day, and he greeted the few early customers that stopped in, since Patrick was in the back continuing to wrestle with whatever paperwork he’d been working on the night before when David had come by.

In between customers, he made room for the new products among the existing ones and set them out carefully, labels forward, in neat, inviting little displays. It was late morning when he finished, and his energy was already severely dwindling, so he decided additional coffee was in order. He popped into the back stockroom, and Patrick looked up.

“Could you watch the front for a few minutes? I could really use more coffee.” He tried to sound as warm and casual as possible, though he wasn’t entirely successful.

“Give me two minutes to save my place.”

“Thanks.” David went back out to the cash register to wait and help anyone who happened to come in in the interim.

When Patrick emerged, David patted his arm gently in thanks. Patrick’s arm relaxed minutely under his hand. David gave him a little smile. “Do you want tea?”

“Actually, yes. That’d be great.”

“I’ll be back in five,” David assured him, and left for the café.

It took more like ten minutes and a brief but excruciating conversation with Bob, but soon enough, David was on his way back to the shop, holding his coffee and Patrick’s tea in each hand. He juggled them awkwardly as he tried to open the shop door without a free hand, but eventually he managed it without incident.

When he got inside, Patrick was standing at the till, unmoving, the second Cold Acres box open in front of him. There was no one else in the shop, but he was pale as a ghost.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” David rushed over to him. “Patrick? Honey?” He put the drinks down and reached for him.

Patrick took about three steps backward, staying just out of his grasp, and David could tell he’d started the process of emptying the second box and cross-checking its contents against the original order. Various moisturizers, lotions, and creams were stacked messily on the counter.

One of the little jars was open. David picked it up to look more closely, and almost instantly the scents of mandarin and cardamom hit his nose, followed soon after by hints of pepper and moss. He didn’t need to look further to know it was the neck cream that he’d sampled the week before.

The one with the scent that had driven Patrick crazy for hours. The one that had Patrick practically tearing their clothes off before they’d even gotten through the front door of his apartment.

“Oh fuck,” David said. “I forgot that was part of this order.” He came around the counter and reached for Patrick.

“Yeah,” Patrick said. A little color was returning to his skin at least, even if he wasn’t rushing into David’s embrace. “Um, I think I need to go.”

“I can finish these,” David said. “If you’d rather go back to your paperwork.”

“No, I need…I need to go. I’m sorry.” Patrick sounded very shaky.

“Okay,” David said, more air than voice. “Can you—are you okay to drive? I can close up and take you. Or call Stevie, if you’d rather someone else…”

“No, I’m fine to drive. I’ll be okay. I’m just going to take the afternoon off.”

“Okay,” David said again. “Okay.” He watched numbly as Patrick gathered his things. Patrick didn’t touch him once except when he brushed by him on his way out.

“Wait,” David said. “Your tea.”

Patrick hesitated, but returned to the register for it. “I’ll text you later,” Patrick said.

“Yeah,” David said, as Patrick gave him one last glance then left, the bell tinkling as it shut behind him.

David sat down on the stool behind the register, suddenly aware of his skin, too tight, far too tight over his body. But he was forced to will his emotions from his face, because the shop door opened then, and a young man came in looking for natural deodorant. Fortunately, David had lots of thoughts on that particular line of products, so he forced a smile and helped the man negotiate the Apothecary’s options for antiperspirants.

He spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze, barely managing to ring up customers or answer questions, and when the shop was empty, he just stared, unseeing, at everything around him, everything they’d built together.

 

*********

 

Patrick hadn’t texted by the end of the work day—David hadn’t expected him to, though he had hoped nonetheless—so David went back to the motel after he closed up. “Where’s Mom and Dad?” he asked Alexis when he got there and noticed his parents’ room was dark.

Alexis looked up from her computer. “At some conference in Elmdale. The one where mom slept with Roland? Dad insisted on going this time too. They’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Too bad. You could have used another father figure.” He sat down on his bed and plugged in his phone.

“Mmm, yeah, tell that to Pierce Brosnan teaching me how to tie my shoes on the set of _Die Another Day_.”

“You didn’t know how to tie your shoes until you were thirteen?”

“Like Adelina didn’t tie yours until you were twelve.”

“At least I wasn’t a _teenager._ ” David began to take off his sneakers.

“Whatever, David. At least _I_ could hula hoop.”

“Such an important life skill.”

Alexis pretended to scratch her nose with her middle finger before turning back toward her laptop and shutting it down.

“Want to get a pizza?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Sure,” she said. “Oh, wait, no. Ted and I are going to the movies. I think that’s tonight?” She briefly scrolled through her phone. “Yes, that’s tonight. Oh, shit, he’s going to be here in like ten minutes so we can go to dinner first, and I haven’t even gotten dressed.” She dropped everything and went straight to the closet.

“Wear the Isabel Marant pleated cocktail dress. There. I saved you at least twenty minutes.”

“The blue one with the high waist or the dusty rose?” Alexis asked, flipping through the hangers.

“I’d call it more of a mauve. You haven’t worn it, and it looks nice. Where are you going to dinner?”

“Obviously. That’s why I got it.” She flipped her hair at him. “And sushi. Ted found a place that doesn’t bring it to you on a conveyer belt.” She dug out the dress and headed to the bathroom.

David nodded and picked up his phone, but found himself unsure of what to look up, when normally there were a hundred things that begged his attention online. He scrolled quickly through the latest drama of the British royals, and then half-heartedly opened Insta.

“Is Patrick at baseball again?” Alexis had come out of the bathroom.

“No,” David said, watching the recently posted stories. Alexis was leaving anyway, and David didn’t feel like talking about things, so he kept his face in his phone, hoping she didn’t notice anything. She’d always been extremely good at reading his face, though he’d been told it wasn’t particularly difficult.

There was a knock at the door, and Alexis dashed over to open it. “Hey you!” Alexis said as she opened the door, and Ted came in and greeted her with an easy kiss. “Hey you,” he echoed.

David quickly looked away. 

“Almost ready to go?” Ted asked, before looking over to David. “Hey, bud.”

“Yeah, hey,” David said, trying to ignore them in case they started kissing again; watching their shared affection, even briefly, had made his chest hurt. Miraculously, Alexis appeared to almost be ready, which was good, because then David could order terrible pizza, consume more than he should, and then hide under the covers the rest of the night, which was basically all he wanted at that point.

“Where’s your bag?” Ted asked, when Alexis finished putting on her shoes and grabbed her phone, purse, and keys.

“Do I need a bag?” she asked.

“Weren’t you going to stay over so you could help at the clinic in the morning since Meghan is out?”

“Oh. Ohhh-oh-oh-oh _oh. Yes._ Right. _Right._ Let me just—Hmm. Mmhmm. Mmhmm.” Alexis’s face was doing strange things.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“No, of course not. It’s just that I didn’t remember. I was looking forward to all that sushi! Nom nom, Ted.”

David rolled his eyes, watching as Alexis started to pull together some things. “I have scrubs at your house, don’t I?” she asked, grabbing her toiletries.

“Yep,” Ted said, and pulled up a chair at the little table to wait. He turned to David. “What are you up to tonight? Does Patrick have rehearsal?”

“No,” David said. “Not until the weekend.”

David felt Alexis’s eyes on him, so he pointedly looked back at his phone.

“Mom and Dad took the car,” Alexis said.

“Fine,” David said.

“You hate walking to Patrick’s. Especially carrying everything over uneven sidewalks.”

“Your point?” he asked. He’d tripped a few times, so what. “It’s fine.”

“David, I don’t have time for this,” she said. “Now I can’t go until you tell me why you’re not going to Patrick’s.”

“I’m not _not_ going to Patrick’s. He’s going to text me later.” It was sort of true. _I think we’re breaking up_ was truer.

Ted glanced between them. “Did you want to come with us?”

“Ew, Ted.” Alexis said quickly as she zipped her overnight bag. “I mean, I suppose you could come, but you’d probably want to sit a few rows away at the movies.”

Ted laughed. “I actually want to watch this one.”

Cringing violently, David said, “No. I’m good. I’m just going to order some pizza and then go to bed early.”

“Sure,” Ted said. “Whatever you want, bud; it’s _owl_ good.”

“Okay,” David said, shutting that down immediately.

“Ted, I’m not sure we’re doing ‘bud,’ and also, I thought we agreed to save the animal puns for the office,” Alexis said, finally grabbing everything she needed and heading for the door. She looked back, though, looking concerned. “David—”

“I’m fine, Alexis. Go.”

“Alexis, we should probably get going,” Ted said. “I did make a reservation.”

David gave her a smile and nodded toward the door. “It’s really okay.”

“Okay, but like, text me later,” she said.

“Fine,” he agreed, and she finally acquiesced to Ted, who was trying to get her out the door.

They shut the door behind them, and David was alone.

A few minutes later, he got a text.

 

 

 

> _Alexis: Ted likes my dress._
> 
> _David: Told you._

After responding, he shut the blinds and crawled under his blankets, not bothering to turn on any lights.

Less than five minutes passed before his phone chimed again, this time repeatedly. He gave up trying to ignore it and looked at the screen.

 

 

 

> _Alexis: Pizza will be there in 20._
> 
> _Alexis: You’re the only one there, so GET UP when they knock._
> 
> _Alexis: Or I’ll tell mom you took her last Xanax._
> 
> _David: Thanks._
> 
> _Alexis: I didn’t tip._

David found himself grateful for her intrusion, and he even decided to turn on at least one shitty yellowed lamp so the delivery person would think someone was in the room when they got to the motel.

Then he waited, feeling empty in a way that pizza was not going to help. He had imagined Patrick wanting to leave him in a hundred different ways and for a hundred different reasons. This particular one had eluded him, though. Patrick’s face the night before, when he couldn’t continue, but only because of how much he cared for David, and then today, when the neck cream rubbed it directly in his face—David didn’t know how to navigate the impasse, or if they even could. And Patrick might not want to or think it was worth it, even if he said he loved David basically every day. David didn’t know how to fix it.

Except maybe he did.

Maybe he did, but that _maybe_ meant undoing a long-held promise to himself; it would take rethinking foundations on which he’d built his life. Who he was. What he was not. It meant compromise. It meant trust—to a degree that had always seemed inconceivable to him. He’d been burned, and burned, and burned again from trusting people and letting them inside. Letting someone as important to him as Patrick even know about what he really was took every ounce of faith David had. And this _maybe_ required a hundred times more.

A bright light from outside swung through the dimly lit room, the sure sign of headlights, which meant his pizza had arrived. He wondered which place Alexis had ordered from as he grabbed his wallet to pull out a few dollars for the tip, then waited for the delivery person to knock. It didn’t take long.

“Hey,” David said, trying to sound reasonably normal and pleasant as he opened the door, but his breath caught in his throat.

Patrick stood there holding a pizza box.

“Alexis texted me.”

David’s opinion of Alexis dipped considerably. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yes,” Patrick said, sounding relieved. He stepped inside and handed the pizza to David, who set it on their little table across the room.

“Are you feeling better?” David asked, and he felt like he was vibrating because he wanted to go to Patrick and touch him and hold him, but he didn’t know what Patrick wanted. He folded his arms across his chest so he wouldn’t be tempted.

“Yes. No.” Patrick sat down on the corner of David’s bed. “I was overwhelmed.”

David sat down across from him, on Alexis’s bed. “Okay.”

“I want to be with you, David. So badly I can’t even deal with it. But I don’t know how if I can’t physically _be_ with you, and I can’t, not if I’m going to cause you that much pain every single time we’re together. From what you’ve said, it could get even worse.” Patrick scrubbed his face with his hand. “If you’d seen what I saw and knew you were the cause of that much pain, you’d have trouble too. No matter how many times I said it was fine.” Patrick’s voice grew audibly more upset. “David, I tried.”

“I know,” David said, because he knew Patrick had. And then he gave in and reached for Patrick, because things were about to get really dark, but at least then he could be holding Patrick until the last possible moment. Patrick came willingly and held David just as tightly.

“I make you feel right,” David said, because he’d clung to that fact when he doubted everything.

“Yes,” Patrick said thickly. “That hasn’t changed.”

“You make me feel good,” David said. _Valued. Treasured. Worthy._ Oh god, how could David give him up.

“You _are_ ,” Patrick said, and he was so earnest. “And that will also never change.”

David felt his eyes start to burn.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Patrick leaned back enough to look at David. “But I thought about it, and I just can’t physically hurt you every time we—not every time we’re together physically. And I don’t mean doing some rougher things occasionally that would give you…that you would like. That’s different, and you know it. I mean the kind of hurt that neither of us want for you. I don’t think I can do it. A lifetime of that would kill me, and that’s if I was physically capable of doing it at all.” Patrick looked away.

David’s mouth was dry, and his throat closed, and he felt like he couldn’t have gotten a word out if he wanted to.

Continuing, Patrick said, “I want you to be with someone who you can trust fully. I know I really messed that up in the past, and I’m going to do better. But…I did it. I broke your trust. And maybe that’s why now you can’t…” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know, David.” He was looking down at the filthy stained motel carpet. Still not looking at David, he robotically added, “I think I need some time.”

David was certain his knees were going to give way, because past experience had taught him exactly what that last part meant. He let go of Patrick with one arm to brush the tears away a tear with his hand, but Patrick took that as an opportunity to step out of his reach completely. David felt like he couldn’t get enough air into his body. “Wait,” he gasped out.

He barely got the word out, but he did it.

Patrick’s eyes were also bright. “David, I…”

Nothing was worth losing Patrick. 

In that moment, David released about a dozen other truths he’d held close since that terrifying, awful night when he was thirteen, when he’d first seen the horrible specter of grotesque wings in his bedroom mirror, because keeping Patrick was worth even more. In the end it was no choice at all.

He swallowed his tears. “I’ll try,” he said. “I can—once. I can try it once.” He tried to clear his throat from the mucous that was coating his words.

“Say more,” Patrick said, taking a step closer. “Please.”

“I don’t know if I can. I’ve never let them out—not with anyone, ever. But I could try…” David wiped his eyes. “I would try it once, but you would have to promise not to… laugh or—fuck, you’re going to see them and want to leave me anyway. I can’t do this.”

“David, I would never.” He started to reach for David. “Please believe me.”

“Okay. Then—” David took a shaky breath. “Then I would do it once, for you. And then you’ll understand. And then at least you can make an informed decision—” David let out a choked sound.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Patrick said, and David tried to believe him. David _had_ to believe him to be able to go through with it. So he kissed him like a man starved.

Patrick responded instantly. They breathed together as they stole desperate, wet kisses from each other’s mouths.

David pulled back, as he again became overwhelmed by the risk of sharing everything Patrick. “What if I can’t?” David asked softly, because his anxiety was waring with his desire, and David wasn’t entirely certain the former wouldn’t prevail when the time came.

“You can. I’ll help you,” Patrick said, and curled his hand over David’s cheek, pressing his lips to David’s.

“Okay,” David agreed, and Patrick moved his mouth over David’s neck, running his lips and tongue over the sensitive skin. David moaned, soft but desperate, and clung to him as though he were drowning.

“God, I wish we had more privacy here,” Patrick said. “I didn’t know how I was going to go without this, without being able to be with you. Less than a day and I was going crazy from not touching you. I don’t want to wait—I want to taste you and kiss you and touch every single part of you. I want to do so many things to you.” Patrick paused. “None of which I want your sister to see.”

“How about we don’t mention her right now,” David said. “Though you should know that my parents are out of town, and my sister is at Ted’s until tomorrow. We’re probably safe to mess around a little.”

“Really. Well, that is very interesting,” Patrick said.

“Still only have my shitty single bed, though,” David added, trying to sound sad as Patrick stepped close again and began tracing his mouth over David’s jaw, eventually moving toward his mouth, where Patrick’s tongue found his.

Smiling against David’s mouth, Patrick confessed, “I can think of a few work-arounds.”

“I don’t know if I even locked the doors,” David said, nudging his hips forward into Patrick’s, and dropping his hands to Patrick’s ass.

Patrick groaned softly at the contact. “We should probably check.” He turned them slightly, so his back was to the door to the outside, then walked backwards toward it, pulling David after him. David made sure their lips never separated during the brief but highly uncoordinated journey. When Patrick’s back hit the door, David reached around him and twisted the lock into place.

“Other one too?” Patrick asked.

“Yes,” David said breathlessly, and this time he pulled Patrick along with him, Patrick’s hands on his hips, as he backed his way over to the entrance to his parent’s room. When he backed into the door, he awkwardly reached behind him to check that door was also locked. It rarely held if someone wanted to get through, but he still felt better knowing it was taken care of.

“I don’t want to lose you,” David confessed, back against the door, where Patrick had him temporarily pinned.

“You won’t,” Patrick said, sucking on his neck.

“I might,” David corrected. “When you see them—” His voice faltered.

“David, no. You are doing this for us, and I could never let you go for that.” Patrick paused. “But are we really doing this here?”

“I’m highly uninterested in letting you go long enough to get back to your place,” David said. “Though I’m also not exactly eager to look like a goddamn chicken in front of you.”

“Okay, well, that’s not going to happen, so it’s not a problem,” Patrick said. His hands had been roving over David’s chest and down his thighs and back up to his waist. They now slid under his sweater, but Patrick’s own shirt was neatly tucked-in button down, so eventually they both paused to work at the various buttons. When they finally got Patrick shirtless, David ducked down to trace his mouth over Patrick’s chest, pausing to tease his nipples, sucking and licking and biting them until Patrick was basically mauling him. David ignored Patrick’s little noises of frustration and took his time, slowly running his hand along Patrick’s pale skin, memorizing the flat planes and the movement of his chest. After a final kiss on his clavicle, David stood up again; watching the steady rise and fall of Patrick’s chest had calmed him.

Patrick kissed the corner of his mouth. His own lips were red and kiss-swollen, and it made David want to keep kissing him until he knew they’d stay that way for days, just so everyone he talked to would know that he was David’s. Maybe he’d suck on Patrick’s neck and give him a real hickey, so everyone who even glanced at him would know. David dropped his mouth to the side of Patrick’s neck and started licking and sucking him there.

He finally surrendered this cause when Patrick reached for the clasp at his waist and, after unbuttoning his trousers, Patrick worked his hand inside until he found David’s dick. David moaned when Patrick touched him. Patrick held him in his hand, rubbing his palm over David’s dick even as he was restrained by the tight material.

“What if I bring you off?” Patrick asked. “Just like this.”

“Oh fuck,” David said, his head clunking back against the door, the thought of it overriding his anxiety.

“Right here in the middle of this god-awful room, could you come for me?”

“Christ,” David cursed. “Yes.”

“And will you let go for me? Show me? I want to know every single thing about you. Could you do that? Please?”

“I—” David made a small sound. “Yes.”

“This motel room will have never seen anything so beautiful,” Patrick said.

“You don’t know that; you don’t know,” David said

“Oh, I know,” Patrick said firmly. “Take off your pants,” Patrick instructed softly but determinedly as he started to remove his own, revealing that he was hard for David. David had dig the lube out of his secret stash of items under his bed when Patrick asked for that too, but David found it easily and then undressed the rest of the way. By the time he finally finished setting his folded clothing aside, Patrick was standing directly behind him and running his hands up David’s sides.

“Ready?” Patrick asked, softly into his ear. “Because I’m going to make you come really hard.”

David swallowed. “That’s a good start.”

Patrick kissed his upper back and then turned him around, and David saw that at some point Patrick had grabbed the lube. David watched as he put a generous amount in his hand and then slipped it over David’s cock, coating him, and making David twitch at his touch, his hips moving reflexively.

“I’m going to make you come so hard it would be pointless to even try to control yourself.”

“Jesus fuck,” David hissed, and closed his eyes as Patrick began to pull him off.

He tried to lose himself in Patrick’s touch and to ignore his stomach, which still churned with nerves about what would follow. Patrick’s hand surely and steadily continued to work him over, but it was admittedly difficult to focus at first. Soon, though, he fell into it—Patrick had indeed been watching him closely, because he knew just what to do to make David’s blood race, and he was relentless.

David ran his hands along the back of Patrick’s neck and head, combing his fingers through the soft, short hair as Patrick leaned into him, his forehead on David’s shoulder. Patrick was looking down, watching as he stroked David, and David could feel Patrick’s warm breath on his upper chest. Craning his neck, David kissed every part of Patrick’s head he could reach as Patrick pulled soft moans from him as he stroked his cock.

“I love you,” David said, his voice rough. _I don’t know if I can do this._

“I love you, too,” Patrick said, looking up again and kissing David desperately. “I know you can do this.” 

David looked away because he found his eyes were growing wet again, though at least they weren’t overflowing. He could feel the hard length of Patrick’s erection against his thigh and knew that Patrick was still hard just from stroking and kissing and touching him. _How long,_ David began to panic. _It wouldn’t last, not when he saw…He was going to leave, he was going to leave, he was going to leave._

He swallowed hard. “Patrick…”

“I’ve got you. Stay with me.” Patrick licked into his mouth, his tongue sliding against David’s. David moaned softly and let him in, would always let him in.

Finding the efforts of Patrick’s hand on him rapidly becoming hard to ignore, David found himself overwhelmed by both sensation and emotion, and he half-laughed and half-sobbed in response to the situation—one he swore he’d never be in.

“It’s just you and me,” Patrick breathed into David’s ear. He ran his thumb over the tip of David’s sensitive cock. “I can’t wait for you to share this with me.”

The sound David made in response felt like it came from somewhere else entirely.

Even with all of the emotions circling in him, and honestly not even knowing if he could really open up as Patrick needed him to, David realized that Patrick, who was expertly stroking David’s cock, was going to make him come either way, and David was going to have to make a choice. He leaned into Patrick, resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder so he could watch. He was dribbling copiously on Patrick’s hand, but Patrick seemed to like it, and he used it when tightened his grip and took David even higher.   

As determined as he was to last—to put off the inevitable—eventually David knew his orgasm was imminent. He was grunting helplessly with each stroke, and Patrick had started trailing one of the fingers from his other hand along David’s ass, intentionally catching his fingertip on his hole. It was too much. Too good.

David gasped. He dropped his head back and clutched Patrick’s shoulders as his orgasm approached, unstoppable as a freight train.

“I know you can do this,” Patrick said firmly, and kissed his chin, then the side of his mouth, his temple. “I know you can do this for us,” he said as he finally pulled David’s orgasm from him.

With a small cry, David let go. Of everything.

“Patrick,” he gasped out as he came from Patrick’s hand, an unimaginable wave of exquisite pleasure flooded through him. He clung to Patrick as his hips lurched, again and again.

Patrick kissed him through it, devouring his mouth through David’s climax, swallowing the noises that came unbidden and then held him up when David’s legs got shaky. He was only faintly aware of Patrick’s arm supporting him, the other hand still pulling the final remains of his orgasm from him.

The intensity of the pleasure was beyond what he’d ever experienced, and David was left gasping as Patrick continued to place kisses all over his face. It was so good, mild-blowingly good. Even the times he’d let go when he brought himself off under his dual head waterfall shower in NYC were of no comparison.

The next thing he noticed was the weight at his back. He’d forgotten what they felt like. He flexed them experimentally; it had been a while. Meanwhile, Patrick was looking at him in complete awe. “My god. They’re stunning. David, oh my—they’re gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous.”

“Don’t say that,” David pleaded. “Don’t…”

“David, they’re beautiful.” Patrick started kissing his shoulders. Little kisses everywhere. “They’re beautiful. Honestly. So beautiful. Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you. You’re stunning.” He kissed David’s lips. “Thank you.”

David looked around. Feathers were everywhere. Mostly black, but some with white tips. He began to feel shaky again.

“Okay, here, I’ve got you.” Patrick grabbed the throw blanket from David’s bed and went to wrap David up in it before realizing he couldn’t really, not with the wings. “Um, hmm. How about this.” He led David to his bed, and guided David into it so he was lying on his stomach. Without pause, Patrick climbed into the tiny bed with him, pulled the blankets up to their waists, and wrapped himself around David’s side.

David let him, because he was starting to freak out, because he had fucking wings; he had fucking wings because he let them out in front of Patrick, and somehow Patrick still wanted to touch him. Patrick wasn’t horrified, even though he should have been.

Patrick kept saying they were gorgeous. He kept saying it. He said it again, and again, and David could see the truth of it in his eyes.

Rolling half onto his side, David made more room for Patrick, who must have been half off the bed. Gratefully, Patrick adjusted, and when he settled in, David felt Patrick against him. He was rock hard. He’d been that way the entire time.

“C’mere,” Patrick said, pulling David closer against him, and wrapping his legs around David’s. He sucked at the skin of David’s shoulder as he carefully reached up and brushed a hand ever so lightly over the top of David’s wing.

David gasped and pulled back.

“Is that… not okay?”

It felt good. It felt so good. “It’s…really sensitive. I didn’t know. No one else has ever…” David tried to remember what Patrick had asked. “No, it’s okay. You can, if you really want to.” David relaxed his wing again, which was wasn’t difficult given that he felt completely boneless. Patrick reached up again and ran his fingertips over the feathers. “It feels really good,” David confessed.

Patrick smiled. “It’s so soft.” He ran his hand over the wing, and then over David’s shoulder and back down his arm, making David shiver. “That’s amazing. God, it’s so fucking hot too; you don’t even know.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever agree with you on that,” David said, wincing.

“I’ll just have to keep telling you.” Patrick placed a quick kiss on shoulder.

But even if he was starting to believe that somehow Patrick wasn’t leaving him imminently after all, it didn’t mean their problem was solved. “Okay, but Patrick, I will always hate them.” Patrick just shook his head and started to pet David’s wing again, and the pleasure that came with that was unbelievable, but David felt he had to be clear. “I can’t… I won’t want this every time. I’m glad you don’t…hate them. But I can’t.”

Patrick stopped playing with his feathers, thankfully, and met his eyes. He seemed surprised. “Even though it feels good?”

“Yes,” David said. “I could do it sometimes for us. But there are times when I will need you to let me at least pretend to be normal. Other times I might actually want to feel it…the other way, I mean. Or sometimes just because it would be a nightmare to have wings for hours given how often I want to sleep with you.” He took a deep breath. “I know you don’t like it, but that’s the reality of the situation. Can you do that?”

“David Rose, did you just suggest a compromise?” Patrick asked, brushing his hand over David’s cheek.

“No,” he said immediately. “I am terrible at compromising.”

“Hmm, actually, I think you did.”

“Nope,” David said, because Patrick was in his arms, exactly where he belonged.

Patrick just smiled at him. “I think I can live with that.”  

“That’s good, because I don’t want to do this without you,” David said, kissing every inch of Patrick’s face within reach. David ran his hands over Patrick’s back, just feeling him, real, in his arms.

“Do what?” Patrick asked.

“Anything,” David answered, because in the shitty yellow light in the shitty old motel room, Patrick was still the most beautiful person David had ever known. And David didn’t have to let him go. David told him this, then, and Patrick mashed his lips against David’s, impatiently and repeatedly. He ran his hands up Patrick’s sides until they came to rest on his back, and David knew his hands were grasping at Patrick’s skin with a bit too much force, but he couldn’t help it; he needed Patrick so much. When faced with losing Patrick’s touch, David realized how much he needed it. Would always need it. How desperately hungry he was for it, for Patrick’s hands in his. For Patrick’s lips against his. He needed Patrick’s heat against his skin, keeping him warm. He needed Patrick’s chest, keeping Patrick’s heart safe to pound against his.

They began to move together again, rocking slightly, clutching each other, sharing each other’s breath, and tasting each other with kisses that went on and on. Eventually, Patrick took hold of himself and began to run his hand over his cock, but David just kissed him and reached down, brushing Patrick’s fingers aside so he could do it instead, jerking him off slowly and deliberately. He wanted Patrick to feel so, so good, especially because Patrick just kept looking at the goddamn wings, then touching them reverently. His lips were parted and wet, his eyes dark. David shuddered.

“So incredible,” Patrick whispered, reaching out again to run his whole hand over David’s jet-black feathers.

“Okay,” David said, because Patrick was obviously crazy.

Patrick just smiled and put his mouth on David’s neck, lapping and sucking as David stroked him. His breaths became increasingly uneven, and he soon let his head fall to his pillow.

Slowing his movements, David took advantage of Patrick’s exposed neck, reaching in and tasting where a light sheen of sweat clung to Patrick’s neck; he then inhaled deeply, breathing Patrick deep into his lungs.

Impatient, Patrick rolled his hips, so, biting back a smile, David took pity on him. He nudged Patrick onto his back and leaned over him; David was at a better angle now, with his wings out of the way, spread wide over them. He began stroking Patrick harder, his hand moving relentlessly as Patrick moaned and arched his back.

David took Patrick’s balls and rolled them gently with his other hand, eventually moving it back further between Patrick’s legs. “Can I?”

Patrick just reached behind him to grab the lube he’d tossed there earlier and put a little more into David’s hand. This time, David pressed this tip of his finger slowly into Patrick while he stroked him with his other hand.

Patrick moaned louder.

While continuing to stroke Patrick’s cock, David slid his finger in more deeply and experimentally curled it slightly. Patrick sucked in air, his eyes fluttering shut. “David,” he pleaded. “Please.”

Sure enough, David moved his finger only a few more times in conjunction with the hand on Patrick’s cock, and suddenly Patrick’s whole body flexed. He gasped and started coming, David’s hand tight around his cock while he continued to finger him. David let Patrick ride out his orgasm, leisurely milking his cock through the last of it.

When it was over, they lay together, bone tired, for what felt like hours—though in actuality it probably wasn’t that long. It was just that time always seemed to slow down considerably when David realized he was hungry. After waiting as long as he could, David finally confessed. “I really don’t want to stop holding you, but there’s a whole pizza just sitting there on the table.”

Patrick smiled at him fondly. “I’m honestly surprised you lasted this long.”

David huffed and got up, padding across the room to wash his hands and grab two bottles of water from the mini-fridge as well as the pizza from the table. Patrick had sat up and was leaning against the headboard watching him with an eyebrow raised, and it took a moment for David to realize he’d just wandered across the room both naked and winged.

“Well, I thought I was hungry, but I might need to go again instead after that display,” Patrick said apologetically, twirling a stray feather between his fingers.

“You do what you want,” David said. “I’m eating pizza.” He set everything by the bed, grabbed clean underwear and tossed Patrick his. Patrick smiled ruefully, then got up to put on his boxer briefs and wash up a little. He quickly returned to the bed and grabbed a slice of the lukewarm pizza.

It was perfect. Patrick was worth every one of the awful dates and encounters that left David alone and broken in their wake, but David would do it again if it meant he got Patrick in the end.

At some point, the pizza box was tossed off the bed so they could indeed go again despite David’s far too small bed and the added complexity of the goddamn wings on his back—but Patrick couldn’t seem to get enough, and the wings were already out anyway, so David decided they might as well.

“I _really_ didn’t want to lose you,” David said after, pressing a few kisses to the side of Patrick’s face. “And not because I’d mess up the business taxes and have Canada Revenue lackies knocking at my door again.”

“Likewise,” Patrick said, “And not just because I wouldn’t know how to make piles of toiletries look like works of art.” He smiled as he kissed David.

“Let’s never break up again,” David said.

“Were we broken up?” Patrick asked.

“Entirely too close for comfort.”

“Mmm, agreed,” Patrick said. “So never again?”

“Never,” David said, and rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder.

Exhausted, they collapsed together and decided to wait out David’s wings, which would eventually fold away again, at which point they could safely head back to Patrick’s larger bed for the night to sleep more comfortably. They put on a movie while they waited, but it was Patrick’s choice, and David soon found his eyes closing as he tried to pay attention to _Bull Durham_ yet again.

Patrick wrapped his arm around him, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, and let him doze.

 

*********

 

“Oh my god, David.”

David blinked open his eyes and found Alexis standing in the doorway to their room. She shut the door behind her. “Um, David, we agreed only when nobody was home.”

David sat up, and realized he was still tangled up with Patrick on his tiny single bed. They were very, very naked. “Nobody _was_ home!” he said, yanking the sheet up to his neck. “What the hell? You were supposed to be at Ted’s.”

Patrick stirred and opened his eyes, taking in the scene. “Oh. Okay. Right. Um, David, I’m just gonna…” Patrick pulled the blanket up over his head.

It was way too bright in the room, and David squinted at Alexis, and then at his cell phone. “It’s seven thirty in the morning!”

“Well, I didn’t have scrubs at Ted’s after all, so I had to come back for a pair.”

“Oh my god,” David said.

“David?” He heard the door in the next room open, and his mom’s voice carried through the wall. “David?”

“Oh my god,” David said again. “Nobody was supposed to be home.”

“Uh, David, why are there feathers all over the place?” Alexis asked, as their mom easily opened the door between the adjoining rooms. Goddamn worthless motel locks.

“David? Oh, David, all that pizza is going straight to your hips,” she said, spotting the mostly empty pizza box laying forgotten on the floor next to the bed.

“No, mom, that’s Patrick under there too,” Alexis said. “And pizza goes to his cheeks, not his hips.”

“Oh. My. God.” David said again. “Why are you people here?”

Patrick laughed into David’s side, the air from his breath tickling his skin.

“Your father wanted to get home early to help with check-outs, and I’ve had sufficient RAMC experiences for several lifetimes.” His mom looked at the bed again. “Patrick, no use hiding, dear. We’re all very sorry to have interrupted this darling little pre-dawn dalliance. But as long as you still have energy for the stage, your extra curriculars are of no import to—”

“Mom, please,” David begged.

“Oh, that’s okay, Mrs. Rose. You don’t need to worry. I’m fine!” Patrick said from under the blankets.

“Could all of you please just step out for five minutes here so we can get up?” David begged.

“David?” his dad called.

“Jesus fuck,” David said, clutching the blankets tighter. “I’m so sorry, Patrick. No one was supposed to be home.”

“David? Have you seen my—” His dad paused and looked around the room. “Where did all the feathers come from?”

“Oh, John, we ruined more than one pillow in our time,” his mom said, giving David a very unsubtle wink. “And these are only paltry motel pillows. Remember what we did to that bedroom in Tangier?”

“Ew,” said Alexis. “Okay. Ew. This is all a lot for me to deal with right now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” David said, incredulously. “Did we interrupt you?”

“Well of course I remember that, honey.” Their dad’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in the full extent of the feathers. “David, you’re paying for those pillows.”

“Okay, can everyone leave for like five minutes so Patrick and I can make ourselves decent. Please.”

“Wait, Patrick?” their dad asked. “Oh! Oh, that’s _Patrick_ under there with you?”

“What did you think was happening? Oh my god.”

Patrick raised a hand from under the blankets and waved in the general direction of his parents.

“Oh my god, David. Dad thought you wrecked all the pillows _alone._ ”

“Yes, thanks, Alexis. Got it.”

“David, I thought you and Alexis agreed only when nobody was—”

“Nobody was home,” Patrick called out from beneath the blankets.

“All right. John? Alexis? Let’s put the unpropitious paramours out of their misery. We’ll leave you to it, David. And Patrick, nice to see you again.”

Patrick stuck his arm out again to wave goodbye.

“Oh, wait, did anyone sleep with Roland this time?” Alexis asked excitedly as their parents headed back to their own room.

“Goodbye, Alexis,” their mom said, shutting the door firmly behind them. Patrick started coughing under the blankets.

“Okay, let’s get you some oxygen,” David said, peeking under the blankets and making a large air hole for Patrick.

“Thanks,” Patrick said. “Because after this, I may never be able to show my face again. Please leave the rest of the pizza within reach. Also, did I just hear—your mom and _Roland?_ ”

“Yes.” Alexis said, finally pulling a pair of scrubs out from under the far side of her bed. “Well, I was going to change here, but I guess I’ll just take them back to Ted’s so you two can finish—whatever. But David, you owe me.”

“Pretty sure I owe you nothing,” he said. “We were just sleeping. And no one was supposed to be home.”

“A bottle of that meadowfoam-seed oil eye cream when it finally comes in seems fair,” she said, opening the door to leave. “PS, love this journey for you two.”

“Thanks!” David said sarcastically as she shut and locked the door behind her.

“I guess we fell asleep,” Patrick said, peeling back the covers enough to show his face.

“Might’ve done,” David replied. He leaned down and kissed Patrick on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Patrick said, his smile hopelessly fond and just the way David liked it.

David kissed him again, his hand cupping the back of Patrick’s neck.

“David, not while anyone is home, dear!” his mother called through the walls.

“Oh my god,” David squawked, then slid back down under the blankets to rejoin Patrick, who was laughing helplessly.

Not long after, because far too many people were home, and because they had a business to run, Patrick headed home to change and then head directly to the shop. David could more quickly get to the Apothecary from the motel, so he agreed to change quickly then head over in time for them to open in case Patrick ran a few minutes long.

Unfortunately, when David stepped out of the motel a little before nine, he found a large pigeon standing directly outside his door. It puffed up its wings aggressively and took a step toward David.

The pigeon stared at him as he pulled out his phone and quickly texted Patrick.

He was definitely going to be a few minutes late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I'm ICMezzo on Twitter and Tumblr if you want to say hello.

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing Blee created a stunning piece of art inspired by this fic. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and I’m so honored and delighted. Blee, THANK YOU.  
> View the art here at [ https://bleekay.tumblr.com/post/189629845761](https://bleekay.tumblr.com/post/189629845761)  
> (Note: I would advise saving it for the end so you aren’t spoiled.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art|| Your wings]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22081048) by [bleekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleekay/pseuds/bleekay)




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